A perfect day with explo.., p.1
A Perfect Day, With Explosions, page 1
A Perfect Day, With Explosions
Dorothy Grant
Sedgefield Press
Copyright © 2021 by Dorothy Grant.
All rights reserved.
Cover by Cedar Sanderson.
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
This one's to the usual and unusual suspects who goaded me into it, and supported me along the way.
Including, but not limited to:
C.V. Walter
Scott Slack
Paul Clithero
Ben & Bethany Olsen
Dave & Sarah Pascoe
Jason & Amanda Fuesting
...and the North Texas Troublemakers.
Love you all.
Contents
1. An Aquamarine Ticket To Dream
2. Over My Limit
3. Too Sweet Not To Share
4. If It Fits, Get It
5. Not That Pair
6. Sights You Can’t Unsee
7. The Unwisdom Of Crowds
8. She Followed Me Home, Can I Keep Her?
9. Good Morning
10. Bloody Bad Fashion
11. Boxing Clever
12. Driving Distracted
13. Patio Dining
14. Complimentary Breakfast
15. She’s Got The Look
16. The First Purchase
17. A Fair Start
18. Lightning Sales
19. But Wait, There’s Worse
20. Powders And Potions
21. Checking The Label
22. A New You
23. Mommy Juice
24. A Kick In The Shins
25. Can’t Go Home Again
26. A Bad Bi-level Haircut
27. A Matter Of Trust
28. Dirty Words And Dirty Works
29. Off To The Bar
30. Bargain Basement Deals
31. A Dish Best Served Hot
32. A New Adventure
33. Wash And Wear
About the Author
Also by Dorothy Grant
1
An Aquamarine Ticket To Dream
Jenna was almost all the way back to the far wall when she spotted perfection hiding among the haute couture. It gleamed at her in aquamarine silk taffeta tucked out of place among the silvers and blacks that were unfortunately popular this season. She pulled the ballgown out, and held it up to her shoulders, looking down the length and feeling excitement fizzle in her veins like a sugar high. No waistline just under the bust to make her look dumpy here; this one was a full and proper corset top, designed to make her look like she had far more cleavage and less waist than she did. For one moment, she could pretend she was holding the winning ticket to everything she wished she could be. It whispered she was brilliant, and beautiful, rich and fashionable. Even if she knew it wasn’t true, in the aquamarine rustle and glow she could forget that for a while.
“There are no ugly people, only badly dressed.” She breathed the mantra, and knew that even if this dress violated all the season’s popular fashions, it obeyed the cardinal rule: it would make her look amazing. And, as the orange tag showed, it was on sale, plummeting from its stratospheric debut to just barely within her budget. Surely, a clerk must have made a mistake - but she wasn’t going to risk them finding out! Turning, she practically flew to the changing stalls to skin out of her workout gear and make sure that she hadn’t misjudged the size. There were two men sitting just outside on the bored husband chairs, eminently ignorable as they were quiet and still and practically part of the woodwork, leaving her creep-meter pegging zero.
Unfortunately, the vision in brilliant blue-green really was high fashion - high enough that the corset laced in back, not front or even side, and she couldn’t get enough leverage or flexibility to quite reach the way she needed to. Desperation drove her to the stall door, looking for Christy and ready to leverage favors and weather snide remarks in order to get laced in. Her roommate and occasional companion in shopping adventures was on the other side of the shop, deep in flirtatious conversation with the cute shop clerk and totally oblivious to the way Jenna hopped up and down, calling her name. After a full minute of desperate trying and wishing she had a louder voice, Jenna gave up and sagged against the door. She was torn between the dire consequences of leaving her purse behind in the stall, and of dragging her roommate away from the latest potential one night stand, against the desperate desire to be laced up.
Movement made her look over; the men in the bored husband chairs were watching her. The redhead was quietly laughing, but she couldn’t be too offended because it wasn’t meant to be mean, and the fist he was pressing to his lips clearly displayed a wedding ring. There was something strange about the texture of the skin on his hands, but she couldn’t get a good look before he turned, and pointed to the blond. “AJ, this one’s all yours.”
“What?” Jenna looked at them in consternation, her baffled question echoed by the blond as he frowned at his friend. AJ couldn’t be very tall, even sitting, but he had a nice compact, symmetrical shape, and his neck was almost as thick as his head. He had to have a lot of muscle to pull off looking like he didn’t have much. She wondered if he was a diver, or spacer; you couldn’t get that kind of body in a gym, not when his neck was the only tell-tale not hidden under the high-end running gear oddly lacking any labels.
The redhead, who was also wearing the same no-label high-end gear as his friend, was gesturing at her. “She needs her corset laced up, and her friend she’s trying to signal isn’t helping. If you had better luck with women, you’d recognize that arms braced position she’s doing immediately. And since I’m not about to have my darling walk out and find me with my hands on another woman, you get to lace her up.”
AJ looked back and forth between Jenna and his friend, and said, slowly, “Why don’t I just get her friend?”
Two minutes ago, she would have been all for that - but the redhead’s smile was infectious, and the wink he gave her, combined with the honestly lost and flummoxed look on AJ’s face, made her want to join in the joke and tease him too. “Because you’re right here, and honestly, I bet you’re probably stronger than Christy, so you could do a better job. Please?”
The please was what got him up and moving, and she was right, he was short enough she could almost look him straight in the eyes when she was barefoot. She gave him her best brilliant grin, and spun to face the stall door pillar. Once steady, she tossed her head, sweeping her waist-length blonde locks out of the way so he could get at the laces without pulling her hair. He didn’t look like the kind to be clumsy enough to tie her hair in the knots, but you never knew. He put his hands gently to her sides; she could feel the heat of them through the fabric, and the strength in them steadying her. “What does stronger have to do with… how do I secure this?”
She was not going to laugh. She wasn’t. It wouldn’t be nice, not when he was so honestly at sea. Even his buddy dropped his voice and said gently, “Start by making sure any material underneath is all pulled straight. See the laces in the middle, how they’re loose and long? You’re taking up the slack by pulling those out until everything is roughly secured. At which point, you start working from top to middle and bottom to middle to remove all remaining slack. Then you tie it in a bow.”
“A bow.” AJ sounded certain his friend was yanking his chain.
She looked back and smiled. “Yes, a bow. And then because there’s lots of lacing left over, you tie the bow into another bow. Thank you.”
He blinked, and after a moment, gave her a small, crooked smile, the kind that started at his eyes and took a while to work its way to his mouth. “Don’t thank me yet, until you see what a hash I’ve made of it.” But he started tugging on the laces.
She turned back and braced in the proper position. From behind her, she heard his friend say softly, “All the best presents come wrapped in bows.”
2
Over My Limit
AJ was methodically snugging down the laces, contemplating the rhythm and order of progression. It reminded him of torquing down a set of bolts on a transmission shaft extension, and if he could concentrate on that, he wouldn’t make a complete fool of himself. No transmission shaft ever smelled so good, like vanilla and sunlight on leather with the faintest trace of hot metal, nor had masses of shining sun-streaked white-blonde hair he wanted to gather up, wrap around his hands, and pull…
He mentally shook his head, distracting himself from that chain of thoughts. It wasn’t going to happen, and trying to ask her would only get loud and ugly rejection, so he needed to not contemplate it while on task. No matter how lucky Twitch was, some things didn’t rub off. Speaking of the bastard, he was talking again. “You’re supposed to periodically check her breathing capacity.”
AJ paused, wondering how the hell he was supposed to do that, and found her laughing. “I’m good! You’re very smooth and gentle!” His hands vibrated with her ribs transmitting laughter, just as they did when in suit to suit contact in vacuum. Memory flashed through him, vividly as if he was back on the hull in EVA, with Skid laughing as
The girl under his hands didn’t notice, but Twitch did. AJ kept his voice calm. “How often am I supposed to do that?”
“Every time her breathing changes, or you reach the middle laces again.”
“Ah.” He resumed tightening, and when he finished the next set, he paused and contemplated how to ask.
She didn’t wait for the formality. “It could be tighter, but it’s good. I’m too impatient to see if it looks as good on me as I hope!”
That seemed to be a request to terminate, so he tied the loops into a bow, and then the doubled ends into another bow. The result was a familiar knot of many laces he’d seen before on so many sensies, and explained how the men could get the women out of a corset so fast and on to the action. He really shouldn’t have been thinking about that when she turned around, because the feel of her in his hands was… amazing. And she was hugging him, with a kiss on his cheek so brief and light it was like finding a trickle of fresh air feed in a stale pod. Then she was gone, leaving him cold and wanting.
She had dashed to the half-circle of mirrors, and made a noise in tones he couldn’t replicate that encapsulated something of pure female delight. He watched her swish this way and that, and then spin in a circle, skirt and hair swinging out with the centrifugal force like a cloud of pure color and motion and joy. A second squeal sounded off to his right, and he looked over to see Lizzes in the doorway of her changing stall, in a waterfall of dark green dress with gold bits that made her copper hair blaze. She was clapping her hands, and bouncing on her feet, as excited as the time she’d discovered a mineral strike in the middle of a difficult hike. “Oh, that looks wonderful on you! I wish I could pull off aquamarine half as well!”
The blonde made an even higher pitch noise. “Isn’t it amazing?” They did that odd girly clasped arm hug while bouncing, and AJ found himself smiling at the utter ridiculousness, and the infectious delight, of it all. “I can’t believe it’s on sale, and it fits!”
“Oh, you have to get it, then!” Lizzes was squeaking, and AJ caught himself before he could frown. Had there been any doubt? He ordered clothes by function and size, and never wondered if he was buying or not as long as it fit parameters. Women, even usually sensible ones like Lizzes, were completely confusing this deep in their own element. They also moved too much, were far too noisy, and apparently didn’t believe in formality. Lizzes hadn’t even let go of the blonde girl when she chirped, “I’m Lizzes O’Bannon. This is my husband Twitch, and my best friend AJ.”
Twitch grinned and gave a parody of a salute while AJ tried to figure out how to respond. A bow was too formal, a handshake not possible and he didn’t know why Twitch had decided that was right. He’d taken too long again, and the blonde was talking. “I’m Jenna Brooks!” She finally let go of Lizzes, stepped back, and gave the other woman a head to toe look that would have been rude if he’d done it. And then made another very loud high-pitched non-distress noise. “Oh, congratulations!”
“Thank you!”
“How far along are you?”
AJ decided now was a good time to retreat. Possibly out of the shop, to save his hearing. Possibly out of the country, to save his sanity. If only it could be off the planet… Escape was intercepted by Twitch’s firm grip on his elbow, and then Twitch was headed out with him, saying, “If you ladies are happy, then, we’ll be outside.”
Lizzes giggled. “Oh, fine, run away before I can show you the other nine!” But she was laughing, and waved them off. AJ didn’t hesitate to break for the door.
“Always let them know when you’ve hit your limit,” Twitch said softly, and let go as they passed out of the shop.
Instead of relief, they hit a wall of sensory chaos, of the noise of hundreds of conversations and discordant shop musics all echoing off the hard surfaces, and all the smells of the bodies and perfumes and food shops and garbage and… it was offensive enough to kick his inskin into targeting mode and start automatically shot ranging everything as they moved through the edges of the crowd. He was crouched lightly, on the balls of his feet, ready to move in any direction away or toward the attack as people came at him.
Twitch dropped to tacnet, and sent on a channel just between them, “I’ve got your six.” That was enough to make AJ aware he’d be scaring the situationally aware, and lock down the obvious external responses. If all the noise and movement and smells ate at his nerves like acid, at least they didn’t “unnecessarily unnerve the civilians”, as his last report had scolded when he’d been medicalled out… and wouldn’t flag him to hostile overwatch before he could spot them. They moved to partial concealment - a space between a giant potted fern, a tile wall, and an almost-overflowing trash can, where the main flow of traffic swung a little wide of them.
Twitch was scowling at the trash can, and at AJ’s look, snapped, “They keep putting these damn things in, and the civvies don’t understand blast resistant isn’t the same as blast proof.”
AJ shook his head, and tried to focus on the chaotic here and immediate now. There was no reason for the normally easygoing man to be angry, unless… “You hit your limit.”
“About six squeals ago. How the hell do you put up with it, when I know you’re far less used to people and noise than me?” Twitch glared at the trash can like it was a miscreant E-4 that had gotten caught, and shook out his hands to keep from balling them into fists.
AJ decided not to point out he was well over his limit, too. If Twitch hadn’t noticed, no need to make it worse. Instead, he scanned the environment looking for somewhere less nauseating than next to the piled garbage for awaiting the women. “Cafe. Third table on the railing from left. Grab it, and I’ll get coffee.”
Twitch considered the vantage, even as they worked through the flow of traffic and closed on the target. “Good sight lines. Shitty avenues of escape, damned exposed.”
It was the best of a bad setup. “Got a better alternative?” He didn’t snap, because that would only get a nettled response back. It was better to be moving, even if he did want to knife everyone who got within range.
“Not yet. You picked well.” Twitch split, leaving AJ to handle ordering coffee and food. Which, of course, was done up in artisanal style because they were going to bleed the captive audience’s wallets, but would do it with a smile and a frou-frou excuse.
By the time AJ got to the tables, Twitch had somehow wheedled two laughing women out of a table with partial cover from a pillar and the wall that was part of a fountain installation, with clear lines of fire and escape. The man was good, he had to admit. But not always perfect. Twitch was looking at the pile of assorted scones and plate with two premade sandwiches. “The hell’s that for?”
“How hard are you Boosting?” AJ meant it for a rhetorical question, and after a moment, Twitch nodded. There were both deep in the limbic reaction of fight or flight, all augments online and burning calories hard. AJ let Twitch have the seat with his back to the pillar and good sight lines, and pulled out the chair across the table, angling it at a 45 so he could cover the rest. After kneeling down to fake retying his shoe so he could look under the table on an automatic check for limpet mines or other explosives, AJ settled back in the chair and nodded at the scones. “She threw up this morning, didn’t she? You need to have an opinion when she asks you for something good to eat. The one with the amber chunks is ginger; it’s good for null-G sickness.”
