“It occurs to me that there exists a distinct possibility we may have missed a few steps in this mission.” Mio admitted, reluctantly, over an all you can eat breakfast buffet complete with mini muffins of varying goodness. “Overlooked a few things. Perhaps didn’t take all the advantages that Fate tried to throw our way.”
Why do I not find that entirely surprising? We know things about Fate that would worry the general public.
“Praytell, why did you not mention this earlier?”
She scoffed delightedly. Evidently this was exactly the reaction she was going for. I must have been screaming ‘violin! Play me!’. “Like when?” she asked. “Maybe when you were on your hot date at the motel?”
“If we could simply refer to that as ‘The Kidnapping Incident’ I’d feel a lot better.”
“Yes, and seeing as how that’s my entire goal today…”
I stopped myself from chucking a perfectly good bagel at her head.
Mio didn’t continue this conversation until half the day had passed. By that time we were driving aimlessly around the city. We’d made Kai rent a car and he was acting as chauffeur. Mio wouldn’t let me do any shopping to find him suitable attire and his name wasn’t Jeeves so perhaps he didn’t entirely fit the role, but he was the only E3 licensed driver among us and therefore obligated.
“Which way do you want me to turn”? he asked. We pulled up to an intersection that to my undiscerning eye looked rather a lot like all the others we’d seen. Well, except for that guy peeing on the trash can. That was new.
“Left, idiot.” Mio replied, with some vehemence.
I had to wonder at her tone. She was only ever half so harsh when she actually liked someone. I was getting ideas about her and Kai…. ideas that involved chocolate hearts and fat flying babies with bows and arrows. Why anyone would allow children to be thus equipped at this age is quite beyond me, but that’s not the point. The sickeningly sweet scent of sensuous ardor was in the air . And also alliteration. Like the flu. It was catching.
“… and so I’ve got a hunch that he is our man. He’s the one who has been attacking alter egos. I wouldn’t have figured it out if not for oaf boy last night.” Mio gazed at the three of us in the backseat with an expression bordering on point-of-no-return conceit.
“Wait!” I cried. “Who? Who’s the guy?” I was slightly annoyed with myself for getting so wrapped up in my own train of thought that I missed the main point of the conversation. That’s like going to see a movie and getting stuck in the theatre with the seemingly untrained projectionist who may or may not be taking a nap. Meanwhile, you’re being entertained by pummeling the miscellaneous children who dared to throw popcorn at the back of your head.
“… exact our revenge on him tonight and thusly save our alter egos and very possibly get mad acclaim upon our return.”
That’s just craptastic. I did it again. But perhaps contextual type clues could prove to be my friend. “So then why are we driving around now?” I asked.
Mio closed her eyes and her lips moved slightly, as though she were counting. “We’re driving around now to find his van, which, if you think back about five seconds ago, we’ve already established. Honestly, Mae…”
Van… van? Oh! The freaky seventies guy! Hot diggity damn! He did have that photo album! And that would explain why the pictures seemed familiar in an unnamable kind of way. If they were pictures of alter egos chances are I know the originals. It’s all making sense now! Pity I didn’t put it together earlier… but what with unwanted husbands, mysterious men in black, and strangers in my bed I don’t truly think I can be blamed. That’s asking a little much, right? Chances are that if I had actually had time to put any thought into the whole thing I would have figured it out long ago.
That thought comforted me until I began pondering the likelihood of finding our man this easily. It was like going through a straight maze. It just didn’t make sense. Where were the twists? Where were the turns? The ones that had nothing to do with my peculiar social life, I mean.
What we needed now was advice from a devious mastermind. Mr. Bad Man comes to mind. But Mr. Bad Man was still enjoying a tropical vacation with his wife and kids. So where does that leave me? And what was I thinking when I put on this skirt this morning? My bare legs were sticking something awful to the car’s leather seats. “Could we, perhaps, take a small break from this oh so dangerously exciting search and grab a smoothie? I feel like I’m in an oven.”
Camry patted my knee absent-mindedly. “I didn’t even know you knew what an oven was.”
“Do you wish to be hurt?” I replied, reflexively. It is one thing to insult my cooking but quite another to insinuate that I don’t know my way around a kitchen. It’s hardly my fault that the way is usually straight through to the dining room. “I know what an oven is. I make a mean pot of hamburger helper.”
A sound very much like a snort drifted from the front seat.
“Don’t you get all high and mighty up there, Miss I-can-make-a-splendid-seven-course-meal.” I tried to put as much venom in my voice as possible, but let’s face it, the insult was lacking malice. Mio did cook well. She couldn’t bake for crap, but her cooking was to die for. And she knew it. The satisfied smile on her face told me that much.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Do you ever just get the feeling that no matter what you do it isn’t going to be good enough? You might as well not even try. Just label it a ‘surviving day’ and move on. Only watch your step. ‘Cause your life seems to be challenged more on those days than any other.
These thoughts ran though my head as I slurped the last bit of my smoothie. I put the cup on the table next to me and did my best to ward off brain freeze.
“We aren’t going to find him during the day.” I said, suddenly. My companions talk of corrupting E3 stars ceased and their heads swiveled toward me as one. Camry still wore that half-dazed expression he had donned in the car. I was starting to wonder what that was about.
“Why do you say that?” Mio asked.
“Well, if, hypothetically, I was ever of mind to wear the style of clothing our fugitive does, act like our fugitive does, and talk of the things he was interested in… it only makes sense that the easiest place to find me would be some struggling nightclub with a cheesy disco era theme. This narrows our list of places to search and introduces a plethora of interesting fashion decisions. All in all that makes for a good day.”
Mio nodded thoughtfully. “For being a gaping idiot at times you do toss out some useful theories.”
It seemed safest for all involved to focus on the positive aspects of that statement. I let it go and began pondering what the night would bring.