“Daddy, everything turned out all right in the end,” she said to him.
“Hm, Hm,” he replied.
“I hope we didn’t embarrass you in front of your friends,” she spoke softly.
“I want to know when you took your eyes off your sister and let that Jamal put his mouth on her?” he asked.
“My eyes never came off Karli. He kissed her on the cheek to calm her down after the kids laughed at her. Jamal did it to shut them up so Karli wouldn’t be the butt of their jokes,” she said. “He’s a nice kid, Daddy. Karli is just...Karli. She talks likes an old woman and he likes to read. The other kids don’t, so they share that bond.”
“Yeah, well there’s that,” he said, noticing a tall Black male peering in the side window were the party was happening. “Get inside Dusty, now.”
Raphael eased his way around the side of the building, coming up behind the man, who was also seen by the Archangel who was coming out the door. Zeke flanked him on the left and Yield was on his right. Suddenly Archangel stopped in mid stride, holding up his hand.
“Mr. Merge? What are you doing here? You working?”
The other Technicians stopped. No one had ever seen Mr. Merge and they sure as hell didn’t know he was African American. What scared Mr. Exit more than anything was why the man was here.
“Who did you come for, Merge? Who did you come for, Merge!”
“An old man who is staying at the lodge with his family. Yeah, in about two minutes, he’s not going to be able to catch his breath,” Merge said, looking about. “Hey what is this, some kind of party and no one invited me?”
“An old man?” Exit asked.
“Yeah, dirty old fucker, likes to sell images and movies with underage kids,” Merge said, looking at the bow tie and cummerbund on Mr. Exit. “Hey, what kind of party is this, Gabe? Wait, hold up. You marrying Mr. Exit? Holy shit. I heard you’d married Yield, Stop, and the Mann. Are you those guys? I guess so in your matchy-matchy ties. I didn’t get one.”
No one said a word, but it didn’t matter to Merge. His attention was drawn elsewhere. “Ambulance is right on time. They’re so predictable, which I am counting on. I know those dudes are going to go with one or two options to save that dirty old bastard and both are going to mix with the chemical I gave him and kill the hell out of that dude. Good riddance,” Merge said, looking at the men.
The Archangel was trying to get his attention, but Merge had a plan. It didn’t include an impromptu gathering of hitmen. He needed to get home.
“Hmmph. Nice to meet all ya’ll, but whatever this is, not sure I want any, especially if folks keep getting married,” Merge told him.
“I need to speak with you,” Archangel said, “and so does Mr. Exit.”
“You can call me. I’m out. Send me my tie. I like that,” Merge said, easing around the side of the building and disappearing into the night.
Mr. Stop came outside with a chicken leg and another can of beer. “Hey, what did I miss?”
Zeke looked at Stop with wide eyes, asking the obvious. “How the fuck are you able to track anything. You are always a day late and a dollar short!”
“I can track all kinds of stuff, especially with the blueberry soap your wife likes to use. You also like wearing Aramis, which hasn’t been worn in years. You are limping on one leg, creating an uneven pattern in the dirt, carpet, and anything else you step on. You favor your right arm when you sit down, meaning you’re going to be slow to take a swing if I punch you in the gut, so it’s those details which keep me a day early and paying my damned bills, G-Man,” Stop said. “Does anybody want more of that chicken? It’s pretty good.”
The men all laughed, but Raphael found no humor in any of it, especially the small detail of Merge calling the Archangel Gabe. He knew the man. The Archangel knew them all and more importantly, “Gabe” had recruited him to be a Technician. That uncomfortable feeling arrived again, which often happened when he was in the company of people he didn’t trust. Raphael was starting to distrust the preacher man.
“Hey, Exit, get out of here. It’s your wedding night,” Mr. Mann said.
“Not going to be much of a night sharing a room with them girls of yours. Lord, I’m praying for you,” Zeke said.
“I have a suite, so we’re good. Night, everyone,” Exit said, heading inside the building to locate his family and prepare for a wedding night he wasn’t sure he wanted.
Chapter Twenty-Two – Ditto
WILLOW SAT ON THE SIDE of the bed amazed at the weight of the bridal set that glistened even in the soft light of the bedroom lamps. She was staring at her hand when Karli and Dusty came into the room to say goodnight. Hugs were given by both girls whom she feared had seen too much and known too much fear in their young lives and never had an actual childhood. Tears formed in her eyes when she thought of the wedding from hell and her 10-year-old daughter forming a trust circle to talk through her issues. Karli was an old soul, one she often believed housed the body of either her mother or her sister, but she was thankful for the child.
“Willow? Do we need to talk about anything before we go to bed?” Raphael asked, looking at the woman who was now his wife.
“No, I’m good,” she said, trying to reconcile the odd feeling of nervousness inside her belly. “I’ll prepare for our wedding night.”
“I’ve been drinking, so if you would prefer to not...you know tonight, with me being under the influence, I understand,” he said.
“Man, you had two shots of liquor and half a glass of wine. Is that what you call drinking?” she replied, laughing and thinking of her father and his Army buddies in the back yard on a holiday weekend. “You are a long way from being drunk, husband.”
“Husband, I like the sound of that,” he said, removing the cummerbund and walking over to the bed. “That was some wedding. A trust circle formed by a 10-year-old. What have you done to that child? I swear she is like a little old lady shoved into a tiny body. And what is up with this Jamal kid? I have way too many questions right now, and I think it might be best for me to just go to damned sleep.”
“You don’t want to claim your rights as my husband tonight?”
“I want to claim all kinds of shit when it comes to you woman, but emotionally, if I were to be honest, I’m in overload.”
“My apologies for my portion of that overload. The insecurities stood up in the middle of the room and said hey, look at me in the pretty dress. I was scared and still am. Those stories of those women. What the heck are you a part of?”
“Did I mention that I was an assassin?”
“Well, kind of, but not really. You’re admitting this to me now,” she said, removing the dress and standing in matching underwear, black and trimmed in lace that he began to quickly appreciate.
“Yeah, well. Yield isn’t an assassin, he’s a retrieval agent. Stop is a tracker, he hunts down bad people who have been on the Most Wanted List for too long kind of stuff. He prefers the ones that are dead or alive,” Raphael said.
“Enough. I don’t want to know anymore,” she said. “I’m in overload as well. You know what would make me feel better? I need a good dicking.”