MisStaked (18 page)

He grinned, sticking his head into the living room. “Pop Tarts and Fruity Pebbles."

"Not that it doesn't all sound nutritious—"

He couldn't help but note a hint of skepticism in her voice.

"Part of a balanced breakfast."

"Yes, be that as it may. What say we grab something from the Jumper?” Luna offered.

"Sure. Mind if I eat a Pop Tart though?” Breathred was really hungry. Couldn't she see the pangs eating their way across his face? It wasn't like he was made of steel. When you were hungry, you ate. You didn't wait for something better to come along. You ate the first thing you found. Gosh, girls could be stupid sometimes.

"Go ahead. I'm fine. Hey, Breathred, do you mind if we split up for a while? I need to do a few things before we have to meet the Doc."

"I dob tink we neb to dub dat. Wab sob imporbant web canb comb adong?” Breathred asked, through a mouthful of Pop Tart.

"You're welcome to tag along if you want to, but I need to go to the Swang Too Spa. It's time for my bikini wax. You have to book those things weeks in advance. You miss just one, and they won't schedule you again for six months. Say, as long as you're going with me, maybe Lu Lu can fit you in. Then, we can be bikini twinkies."

Breathred choked. It wasn't pretty. A glob of masticated pastry slid from his gaping mouth. Even Stud poked his head in from the bathroom.

"That's where they put, uh, and then they um rip it, you know. And they do it down—” Breathred pointed down, not able to bring himself to say it out loud.

Luna reached for the phone. “So, you know all about it. Do you want me to call Lu Lu and set it up?"

"No, me and Stud have to see a priest about some water, and I'm pretty sure the Pope doesn't approve of bikini waxing. So, it's probably not a good idea to make the Pope mad when you're trying to ask for a favor. What say you go do that, and me and the chimp'll handle everything else?” Breathred rambled on, doing his best not to look her in the eye.

"If you really think that's what we should do, I guess it'll be alright,” Luna answered with a smile on her face that made him wonder if he'd been
played
, as Stud liked to put it.

"Of course it's for the best. I wouldn't have said so if it wasn't,” Breathred huffed. How dare she think otherwise?

"I know that, Sweetums,” Luna said, as she gently patted the side of his face. “I just wanted you to know I agreed with you."

"That's good to know. I guess,” Breathred sputtered confused. Did he miss something there?

"Now, you boys'll have to excuse me, but unlike you, it takes time to look this good.” Luna strode into the bathroom.

"Boy, your daddy should have named you Guitar Petrifunck,” Stud giggled, when Luna shut the bathroom door.

"Why?"

"Because you just got played,” Stud chuckled.

Before Breathred could ask another question, Stud waddled off. He saw no sense in trying to get the chimp explain it. Some things you just had to figure out for yourself without rude comments about sex to go along with the explanation.

Dr. Grayson finished signing the last of the documents that would allow her team to leave with the university's permission. A knock at the door, saved her from the pile of term papers she'd have to attend to before leaving. Well, there was no time like later.

"Come in,” she announced to her visitor.

The professor was surprised to see Edmund Truehart walk into the room. The Englishman was dressed impeccably, as usual. Grayson wondered how he always managed to look like he just came from a fashion shoot. People in their profession were supposed to be short and dumpy.

His blond hair was combed into a current style. His lean face was handsome, despite his hawkish nose. Even, his bookish glasses could not distract from that fact. His body had an athletic, muscular build—not to say she had spent time imaging it to be so. Well, not all that much time.

"Donna, I do hope I'm not disturbing you? You must be having a devil of a time coordinating this jaunt.” Edmund motioned toward a chair beside her desk.

Grayson stifled a yawn. “Sit down. To tell you the truth I just finished the worst of it and I could use a break."

"I wish this was a pleasurable visit,” Edmund apologized.

"Oh.” He wasn't pulling out, was he? That's all she needed, to lose a key member of her team the day before they left.

"I just wanted to ask you about that bloke you wanted me to meet last night."

She let out a sigh of relief. “I was afraid you were going to say you had decided to withdraw from the expedition."

"Perish the thought. This venture is too important to chuck it.” Edmund smiled. “Sorry, didn't mean to give you that idea."

"Then, what did you want to know?” This time her curiosity was piqued.

"This is highly unusual for me to say, but are you sure this Petrifunck character is all that fit to be included in this?"

"For the qualifications I hired him to perform, yes. You have something you want to say about him?” Grayson hazarded a guess this could be trouble.

"You've seen through me, Donna. We've known each other for what, ten years or better? So, I think we know each other well enough to speak our minds. Am I right?” Truehart posed the question in such a way she couldn't deny it, even though for some reason she wanted to.

"I think we can assume so.” What was he after, anyway?

"As you know, I am well known in certain circles. These circles span the breadth of Archaeology and this man's name is not unknown to them."

Okay, now this was getting interesting. She had felt Breathred was hiding something. Here could be the proof of it.

"Let me start by saying before last night I never met the man, but through these people I spoke of, I will admit to some knowledge garnered from—gossip—for lack of a better word."

"Look, Edmund. It's not that this isn't all intriguing, but could you get to the point? I do have a lot to clear from my plate,” she said with a hint of frustration. Why were all Englishmen so long winded?

"Right to it then. Some ten years ago, Mr. Petrifunck was on a dig, not far from Izmir in Turkey. You know the type, finding old Crusade battlegrounds. Anyway, during the course of the dig, something happened to this Petrifunck. Whatever took place unhinged him, if you will. A couple of my associates who attended Oxford were there. A most unpleasant business, by all accounts. The crux of it is this, the fellow left archaeology altogether, as a result of it. Now, he pops up with you. I find it all a little unnerving."

"Edmund, I appreciate your concern, but Mr. Petrifunck has proved himself to be the right man for this job. I see no reason to exclude him for something that happened over a decade ago. Whatever demons Breathred has, he seems to have worked his way past.” What she didn't say was he had found an entire new plethora of demons to plague his mind, but she didn't see any reason to reveal the truth right now.

"I didn't mean to upset you. It's just I felt you should know."

"As I said, I appreciate it, but—” Grayson said.

"But your mind is made up,” Edmund finished for her. “I'm sorry to have wasted your time."

"It wasn't a waste. I'm glad you were watching out for me. As archaeologists, we tend to forget there's a world outside the one that's been dead for a thousand years. I promise you if he shows any sign of cracking up, I'll send him back. You have my word.” She hated having to defend herself.

"I know you will. Well, I must be off. See you in the morning, luv."

Well, if this wasn't a fine kettle of fish. It seems there was more to Breathred's story than he wanted to tell. If Grayson had time, she'd check him out a little more thoroughly. However, wasting any more time on Mr. Petrifunck was a luxury she didn't have. She would have to play with the cards she had dealt herself. Then again, the dig would present her with time enough to try and find out what this little mystery was all about.

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The most important part of any good campaign is planning. If you run in half-cocked you can still end up dead.

It was sometime after eleven before Luna finally managed to find the address her mother had given her for her uncle. She hated lying to Breathred back at his house, but she really needed to do this without him or Stud tagging along. The man she was going to see wasn't her real uncle, but then again, growing up on the reservation Luna had more aunts and uncles than seemed possible. In the truest sense of the word John Prancing Elk was as much an uncle as any blood relation could have ever been. More importantly, he had the gift.

Right now, Luna needed that gift. To her people, the one born with the gift was the most important member of the tribe. When John Prancing Elk left the tribe, everyone was shocked, counting herself among that number. Since coming to Seattle, Luna hadn't found an excuse to go and see him. Truthfully, she was afraid he didn't want to see her. His sudden departure from the reservation left many questions; her mother had kept her own council concerning his leaving. Now, facing the prospect of seeing him after all these years, Luna might finally get the answers to those questions.

Luna saw her visit as killing two birds with one stone, if John could help her. Taking a right onto the street her mother indicated in her directions, Luna thought she must have made a wrong turn. Even when she found the address on the slip of paper, Luna knew she must have been mistaken. The John Prancing Elk she knew wouldn't be caught dead in a place called The Delicious One.

Get real. John was bear of a man, six foot five if he was an inch. All the girls used to swoon over him. The big man always exuded a raw, manly sex appeal that could make a blind woman start to sweat in the middle of a snowstorm. With all those bulging muscles, you'd be hard pressed to mistake him for anything but a man.

Sure, he was quiet and didn't say much. He was just shy. Her mother even used to comment on it. She always said he was the most well behaved man she ever met. Plus, what he knew about interior design would make your head spin.

What would he be doing in a Big and Tall S & M shop? From the looks of the place you'd have to be three sheets to the wind, or a total slut puppy, to even walk through the door. There was no way John Prancing Elk would set one foot inside a place like that.

Luna would have turned around there, but she didn't have any other place to go. She had to get her talisman recharged. Without it she might as well pack up and head home.

Maybe he had lived here and moved after the shop opened. If that was the case, there was a chance someone would know where he'd moved to. You just couldn't forget a man like John. Someone would have to remember him.

The door slid open to the dulcet accompaniment of
Air Supply
. If it hadn't been so blatantly tacky, Luna would have laughed. Instead she suppressed a grimace. The least it could have been playing was some
Culture Club
. She could handle some
Culture Club
, as long as it was the early stuff. Anything after they broke up was just pathetic.

Mirrors lined the store's back wall in a bid to make the tiny space appear larger than it was. All it truly did was tell Luna she could stand to lose the red shirt she had thrown on that morning. Maybe they had something here she could change into. Luna didn't mind wearing something a tad risqué as long as it wasn't downright filthy looking. She did have a wholesome image to uphold after all.

To that end Luna found herself rummaging through the closeout section. The rack had a few things she liked, but nothing Luna would even attempt to wear in public, let alone around Breathred—not that it wouldn't be a lark to see the look on his face, if she did.

"Hey dearie, be right with you,” a falsetto voice yelled from out back, breaking her train of thought.

Luna looked up to see a giant of a woman exit a purple-draped dressing-room door. The Amazon was decked out in a skin-tight, pink leather bodysuit. It could have been vinyl, but in the dimly lit store it was hard to tell. A black, studded belt circled the woman's waist. Her cheap blond hair was wrapped up in a beehive that defied gravity.

Luna was stunned to silence. It wasn't from the sight of the woman, herself. Since coming to Seattle she had seen trashier, but never on this scale. Even that wasn't the ‘cause for her silence.

"Uncle John?” Luna sputtered.

"Luna Walking Batch, is that you girl?” The woman exclaimed in her best Ru Paul voice. “Let me get a look at you. The last time I saw you, you were running around chasing your momma like a chicken with her head cut off."

"Uncle John,” was the only thing her mind and mouth could grasp to say to the man.

"I think we've already established that. I prefer Joan, if you don't mind,” Joan stated, throwing her/his hand on his/her hip. *

*Hey, I'm a damn chimpanzee. If you want Shakespeare, read Shakespeare. You bought this drivel, so read it and shut the hell up.

"Uncle Joan,” Luna uttered, feeling she had definitely hit a rut. God, what was she going to tell her mother?

"Bless me father, for I have sinned,” Breathred whispered. It wasn't that he was ashamed of being in the confessional. Everyone ended up here sooner or later; otherwise they went to the bad place. He was just ashamed of the things that made him go to the confessional in the first place.

"Bless you my son. How long has it been since your last confession?” Father Timothy asked.

"I was just here last week. Don't you remember, Father Tim? I coveted that comic book. Does that help you any?"

"Breathred, is that you?” Father Timothy asked aloud, before mumbling under his breath. “Dear Lord, has it been a week already?"

"Yes, sir.” It was best to be polite in such situations. You never knew when God might stop in for a quality evaluation on his priests.

"Are you alone? The chimpanzee isn't with you, by any chance, is he?"

"No, sir. He hasn't been back to St. Catherine's since Sister Ophelia beat him with her rosary,” Breathred said, ashamed to admit the chimp's indiscretion. Breathred wondered if he still owed a penance for Stud's transgression.