M.Y.T.H. Inc in Action Page 9

  I consider this for a few minutes, then take a deep breath and blow it out noisily.

  “You know, cousin,” I sez. “You’re right. I mean, when you’re right, you’re right . . . know what I mean?”

  “I do,” Nunzio frowned, “which is in itself a little disturbing.”

  “So . . . when do you think we should start?”

  “Well . . . how about right now?”

  While my cousin has convinced me that it would be within the bounds of ethical behavior to launch our campaign, such an accelerated-type timetable catches me unawares.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said how about starting right now. Opportunity should be seized when it presents itself . . . and right now there is a young lady at the bar who has been checking you out for the last several minutes.”

  I sneak a peek in the direction he is lookin’, and sure enough . . . there is one of those classy broads I have been tellin’ you about, a blonde to be specific, perched on a bar stool and starin’ right at me. I know this to be true, ‘cause though for a minute I thought she was lookin’ at someone else, as soon as our eyes meet, she closes one eye in a broad wink and smiles.

  “Nunzio,” I sez, duckin’ my head and turnin’ my back on her. “There is one more problem I have neglected to mention to you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, though my manners with broads are perhaps not as polished as they should be, they are nonetheless the best I have managed to acquire over the years. That is to say, I am normally on my best behavior with females, so the idea of tryin’ to act so offensive that they call for help is not particularly comfortable to me. Mind you, I am sayin’ I would have difficulty doin’ this with the ordinary broads I am accustomed to dealin’ with, and to tell you the truth, I find the kind of classy broads that hang out here more than a little intimidatin’. I’m not sure I can start a conversation with one, much less summon the courage to try to be offensive.”

  “Well, I don’t think that starting a conversation is going to be a problem,” Nunzio sez.

  “Why not?”

  “Because the lady in question is on her way over to our table already.”

  Surprised, I swing my head back around to check things out for myself . . . and come dangerously close to plantin’ my nose in the broad’s cleavage, as she is much closer to our table than Nunzio had indicated.

  “Oops . . . Sorry!” I sez, though it occurred to me as I said it that it was not a great start to bein’ offensive.

  “No problem,” she sez. “A girl likes to feel appreciated. Mind if I join you?”

  Somethin’ about the way she grins while sayin’ this is familiar ... or at least, decidedly unladylike. Before I can comment, however, Nunzio has taken over.

  “Certainly. In fact, you can have my chair . . . I was just leaving anyway. Catch you later, Guido . . . and remember what we were talking about.”

  With that, he gives me a big wink and wanders off, leavin’ me alone with the skirt . . . who wastes no time plantin’ her curvaceous bottom on the chair my cousin has so graciously vacated.

  “So ... I haven’t seen you in here before.”

  “What?”

  I have been so busy thinkin’ about what I am goin’ to do to Nunzio to repay him for his “graciousness” that I nearly miss the broad’s openin’ gambit.

  “Oh. No, we just got into town this week. This seems to be turnin’ out to be our main hangout, though.”

  “Hey, that’s terrific! This is one of my favorite spots. It’s my first time in this week, though. Girl’s got to do the rounds to keep up with what’s going on in town . . . like when new soldiers arrive.”

  Although I have been feelin’ self-conscious about meetin’ one of these high class skirts, this one seems real easy to talk to ... like I’d known her for years. Whafs more, she is certainly not at all hard on the eyes, if you know what I mean.

  “Say,” I sez, “can I get you somthin’ to drink? A wine spritzer, maybe?”

  “Bourbon. Rocks. Water back.”

  “Say what?”

  I mean, it isn’t just that she drinks stronger hootch than I would have expected, it is the way she rattled it off. I decide it is not this chick’s first time into a bar ... a decision made easier by the fact she has already told me as much.

  “Better still,” she sez, “isn’t there somewhere else we can go?”

  This is a rough one. Abdul’s is the only joint in town I have frequented so far.

  “Ummmm ...” I sez, thinkin’ fast, “I have heard of some place around here where there’s open stage entertainment.”

  Mind you, I am not wild about takin’ this skirt somewhere where I might run into my commandin’ officer, but I figure she’ll be impressed with my willingness to spring for a good time.

  “I was thinking someplace more like the rooms upstairs,” she sez, leanin’ forward to smile at me real close.

  I am taken a little aback by the forwardness of this suggestion, though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. When a high-class babe like this approaches a low-brow Joe like me in a bar, she is not usually after witty conversation . . . which, in my case, is fortunate.

  (AUTHOR’S NOTE: It has been brought to my attention by some of my test readers that the concepts in this chapter and those that immediately follow are a marked change of pace from the normal MYTH content. In this, I fear it may be my sad duty to introduce to some readers for the first time the horrifying reality that there are a few sick, twisted, perverted individuals who approach members of the opposite sex in singles bars for purposes other than pleasant conversation! I feel free to identify them as such in this book, since it is a well known fact that such blots on the shining history of mankind do not read, making me relatively safe from legal action. Incidentally, this is also why the question “Read any good books lately?” has become such a popular way of screening whom one does or doesn’t talk to under such circumstances. I will leave it to you how to answer if the question is ever addressed to you. Meanwhile, back to the story . . .)

  As I was sayin’ before I was so rudely interrupted, I am at a bit of a loss as to how to respond to this advance.

  “Right now?” I sez. “Don’t you want to talk for a while first?”

  “What’s wrong? Don’t you like me?” she sez, startin’ to pout a little. “Should I go peddle my wares somewhere else?”

  “Peddle?”

  “Watch it,” she sez, flat and nasty. “It’s a figure of speech.”

  “Oh.”

  I am vastly relieved to hear this. The only thing more depressin’ to a sensitive guy like me than learnin’ that a female is interested in him for his body and not his mind is learnin’ that her real interest is in his wallet.

  “Well?” she sez, cockin’ an eyebrow at me.

  Though I am, perhaps, a little dense at pickin’ up cues from a skirt, let it never be said I am slow once the message has gotten through. Scant seconds later I have acquired the key to a room from Frumple and am leadin’ this vision of loveliness up the narrow stairs . . . well, followin’ her, actually, as experience has taught me that this gives one an excellent view of the sway of her hips, which is to me still one of the most beautiful and hypnotic sights in any dimension.

  In a masterful display of control, I manages not to fumble with the key whilst unlockin’ the door, and even stand aside to let her enter first.

  Bein’ a broad, she whips out one of those foldin’ mirrors and starts checkin’ her makeup even before I finish lockin’ the door behind us.

  “So,” I sez, over my shoulder, “What do you want to do first?”

  To be honest with youse, at this point I have no interest at all in creatin’ a hassle. Instead, I am thankin’ my lucky stars that a skirt like this would give a lug like me a second look, and hopin’ we can get on with things before she changes her mind.

  “Well,” she sez, “You could start by bringing me up to date on how you and Nunzio have been doing.”
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  It takes a moment for this to sink in, but when it does, I knows just what to say.

  “Say what?” I sez, spinnin’ around.

  The skirt what I come upstairs with is nowhere to be seen. Instead, I’ve got a different broad in the room with me. One with green hair and . . .

  “Hi, Guido!” she sez. “Great disguise, huh?”

  Chapter Ten

  “Now, here’s my plan!”

  R. Burns

  “TANANDA? Is that you?”

  My surprise is not entirely due to my not havin’ spotted who it is what has been cadgin’ drinks from me all evening . . . though I hadn’t. Rather I am more than a little startled by her appearance, which has changed considerably since we parted company at the beginnin’ of this mission.

  Tananda is normally a spectacular lookin’ skirt with an impressive mane of green hair. While she has never chosen to present the formal, every-hair-in-place-self-presentation favored by most of the broads what hang out at the sushi bar, optin’ instead for a casual wind-blown look, I am sufficiently versed in the secrets of the female gender to be aware that the latter look is as, or more, difficult to establish and maintain as the former, and often harder to carry off. All of which is to say Tananda is usually very attractive to and careful of her looks.

  What I am currently seein’, however, is someone who looks like she has been on the wrong end of a bad accident. Most of the hair is missin’ from one side of her head, along with the correspondin’ eyebrow, and the other side of her face is marred by a big bruise which seems to be fadin’, but still looks painful. Havin’ both given and received more than my share of the latter type of injury, I can estimate with fair accuracy the force of the blow necessary to produce such spectacular results . . . and it must have been a doozey.

  “Sorry for the horror show,” she sez, puttin’ away her disguise mirror after takin’ one last peek, as if to see whether things have changed since the last time she looked, “but it’s been a rough assignment so far.”

  “What . . . What happened to you?” I sez, findin’ my voice at last. “Who did this to you?”

  I mean, we had all known there might be some trouble associated with this mission, but nobody likes to see a beautiful skirt get worked over.

  “Would you believe it was our own team?” she sez, flashin’ a quick smile, though I knew it hurt. “Come again?”

  “The hair is courtesy of Gleep,” she explained. “I guess it was an accident. I must have gotten between him and dinner or something. Anyway, it’s not as bad as it looks ... or could have been, Chumley saw it coming even if I didn’t and got me out of the way of the worst of it ... which is both where the bruise came from and why I’m not complaining about it. Honestly, you should see what happened to the wall that was behind me at the time.”

  “Speakin’ of which, where are Chumley and Gleep?”

  For the first time in our conversation, Tananda starts lookin” uncomfortable.

  “They’ve ... ah ... headed back to Big Julie’s. Actually, big brother’s in a bit worse shape than I am, so rather than have him trying to work with his arm in a sling, I told him to take Gleep somewhere out of the action and stay with him for awhile. Ifs funny, you know? I still can’t figure what set Gleep off ... but until we can get a handle on it, I figure he’s more of a danger than a help on this assignment. Anyway, I decided to stay on and use this disguise gizmo to see if I could do anything to help the cause on my own. I sure couldn’t do much worse than we were doing as a team.”

  Somethin’ was tuggin’ at the back of my mind . . . somethin’ that Nunzio had said about his last assignment and bein’ nervous about workin’ with Gleep again. I couldn’t put my finger on it, though, and seein’ as how the discussion was makin’ Tananda uncomfortable, I decided not to pursue the subject. I did, however, make a mental note to talk with Nunzio about it when we had a chance.

  “Sounds like things weren’t goin’ too well even before the accident,” I sez, pickin’ up on her last aside.

  “You can say that again,” Tananda sez, heavin’ a little sigh. “We were trying to work a variation on the old badger game . . . you know, where I give a soldier the come on, then Chumley bursts in and raises a ruckus because the guy’s compromising his sister’s honor?”

  “I know the scam,” I sez, ‘cause I do ... though I’ve never run it or been victimized by it myself. Still, it’s a time-tested, classic gambit.

  “Well, it wasn’t working anywhere near as well as we would have hoped. Most of the soldiers around here are under orders to keep their hands off the local women, and if I upped the voltage to make them forget their orders, then the locals would spot what I was doing and take the position that I was asking for whatever attentions I got.”

  “Gee, that’s tough,” I said. “It musta been hard on you . . . particularly if you was workin’ injured.”

  I still didn’t like the way that bruise was healin’, and it must have shown in my voice ‘cause Tananda leans forward and puts a hand on my arm.

  “I’m all right, Guido, really . . . though it’s sweet of you to be worried. I’ve gotten a lot worse just rough-housing with Chumley . . . honest.”

  Realizin’ that her big brother is a troll, I can well believe that Tananda is used to gettin’ dinged up a bit in family squabbles. Right now, however, there is somethin’ else weighin’ on my mind.

  You see, Tananda’s touch was real soft and warm when she laid her hand on my arm, and it gets me to thinkin’ again about the original reason I had for bringin’ her up to this room. As I said before, it has been a long time since I have been alone with a skirt on anythin’ resemblin’ an intimate basis . . . But Tananda is still a business associate, and as with any profession, it is unwise at best to allow oneself to become intimately involved with a fellow worker. Besides, she has never indicated to me any interest beyond friendship ... or maybe a big sister. Still it was real nice to have woman touchin’ me . . .

  “Umm ... All right. If you say so,” I sez, movin’ slightly to break the physical contact between us. “We was just assigned here ourselves, so we haven’t had a chance to do much of anythin’. I think maybe we should try to figure out how Nunzio and me can work the same area as you without us gettin’ in each other’s way.”

  “Don’t be silly, Guido. Since you’re here, we can all work together!”

  “Come again?”

  “Think about it,” she sez, gettin’ all bouncy in her eagerness. “I’ve been having trouble finding soldiers to take the bait on my little routine, but you’re soldiers, so it can make both our jobs easier. If we’re working both sides of the game, we can control exactly how we want things to go.”

  I make a sincere effort to ignore her bouncin’ whilst I try to think of a good reason not to go along with her suggestion. Somehow I am not sure my actin’ skills are up to pretendin’ to be physically forward with Tananda . . . but I am even less enthusiastic about havin’ Nunzio take the part.

  “I dunno, Tananda,” I sez, reluctant-like. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. I mean, we might pull it off once . . . but if we’re successful in our play-actin’, then Nunzio and me end up in the stockade and out of action for the duration.”

  “Oh yeah?” she sez, cockin’ her remainin’ eyebrow at me. “So what were you thinking would happen when you brought me up here this evening?”

  “Ummm ...” I sez, recallin’ that, unfortuitously, takin’ the Fifth Amendment only works in court.

  “Never mind, Guido,” she grins. “I withdraw the question. Tell you what, though. If being directly involved makes you uneasy, just line me up with one of your army buddies. You’ve been in long enough that you should have a pretty good idea of who we can sucker.”

  I find that I am not wild about this idea either; first, because it seems like a dirty trick to play on any of the crew what’s been workin’ with Nunzio and me the last few weeks, and second, because I find I am not overjoyed with the idea of anybody pawin�
� Tananda. Still, I had to accept that we was gonna have to break somebody’s eggs to get this omelette made, and that Tananda is right, it would be easier and quicker to do if we set the thing up ourselves.

  “Okay, Tananda,” I sez. “We’ll try it that way.”

  “Are you okay, Guido?” she sez, peerin’ at me concerned-like. “You sound a little flat.”

  “I’m all right. I’ll tell youse though, Tananda, this assignment is gettin’ me down a little.”

  “Well cheer up, things may have been rocky so far, but working together, we should be able to make some progress. Tell you what, find Nunzio and fill him in what we’re doing. Then we’ll meet back here and give it a try ... say, tomorrow night?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “In the meantime,” she sez, openin’ her disguise mirror again and startin’ to fiddle with the knobs, “come on downstairs and I’ll buy you a drink or two.”

  For a minute that sounds like a good idea. Then I remember Frumple.

  “I think we’d better cool it, Tananda. We gotta be careful about how much we’re seen together here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The reason we’re hangin’ out here is we found out that the proprietor’s a Deveel. The trouble is, he seems to know the Boss and has some kind of grudge against him. So far, he doesn’t know we’re connected with the Boss, but if he gets suspicious ...”

  “A Deveel?”

  “Yeah. Says his name is Frumple.”

  “Frumple? So he’s back in operation again, is he?”

  “You know him?”

  “Sure. He teamed up with Isstvan against us back when I first met Skeeve . . . and you’re right, if he gets suspicious, a disguise spell wouldn’t keep him from figuring out who I am.”

  “Maybe we should wait and try to run our gambit somewhere other than here,” I sez, tryin’ to keep the hope out of my voice.

  “No need,” Tananda grins. “As long as he doesn’t make the connection between us beforehand, we should still be able to pull it off tomorrow night. In fact, it’ll be killing two birds with one stone, in a manner of speaking. I don’t mind doing Frumple a bit of dirt in the course of action, but it ‘ looks like his place will be at ground zero when the fireworks start. By the time he puts it together, we’ll be long gone.”