The Memory Agent & Fool Me Once (2 page)

Duke turns to see – the menacing face from Claire’s photo.
 
Riker Reeves.
 
His brother. Duke gives Riker a brotherly hug pleased to see
his big brother, a big brother he’s hero-worshiped his whole life.
 

“It's been a long time, baby brother.”
 
Riker says as he pats Duke on the back finishing up the hug.

“Three years in.
 
Six months
probation.”
 
Duke elaborates.

“Got out early on good behavior I
heard.
 
Mom would have been proud, about the
good behavior.”
 
Riker responds as
he looks down at a flat fieldstone rock near a tree a few feet back from the
edge.
 
“I see our gravestone we
placed for her is still here.”

“You haven't been back since that day?” Duke asks.

“Didn't feel right without
ya
, baby
brother.”
 
Riker replies, as if
saying it only because
Duke
would want to hear
it.
 
“But I figured today you’d
show up.
 
This is the first
anniversary of mom's death that you are free and clear from jail and parole.
 
No strings on
ya
.”

“Feels good.” Duke sighs.

“I never got a chance to thank you for not ratting me out, for taking
the fall.”
 
Riker states, not
sounding all that earnest.
 

“You're my big brother.
 
I'd
never go against you.”
 
Duke
shares, sounding completely earnest.

“I got one more score.”
 
Riker starts, stopping short of saying to settle. “Need some retirement
money.
 
Then I'm out for good.
 
Heading south to spend my days fishing
and drinking tequila.
 
I want you
with me.”

“Which part?
 
The score or
going south?”
 
Duke inquires
suspiciously.

Riker puts his arm around Duke.
 
“Both, baby brother.
 
Both.”

“I won't serve time again.”
 
Duke insists.

“I just need you on look out.
 
I promise you won't get your hands dirty.”
 
Riker motions for Duke to follow him.
 
“Come on, let's go.”
 

Duke follows Riker down the dirt path to a small parking area.
 
Parked in the dirt lot are an Indian
motorcycle and a jeep.
 
Duke
approaches the motorcycle while Riker approaches the jeep.

“I've got someone I'd like you to meet.”
 
Riker calls over to his brother.

The driver's door of the jeep opens. Out hops...Haley, looking as trashy
as she did at the dive bar.
 
There's not an inch of Haley's body or soul that is trustworthy or
honorable - a perfect match for Riker.
 
She wears more
bling
than an A list actress on
the red carpet.
 
Which seems at
odds with her
skanky
outfit.

With complete disregard for Duke, the first thing Haley does is plant a
sloppy, impassioned kiss on Riker.
 
Which he returns with an equal amount of
fervor.

Once the kiss has commenced, Riker makes the introductions.
 
“Haley, Duke.
 
Duke, Haley.”

“I've heard a lot about you.”
 
Haley drawls, lacing her words with slutty innuendo.
 
“Will you fix my Harley, biker
mechanic?”

Duke’s not impressed.
 
He
tries to hide his instant distaste for Haley for the sake of his brother.
 
Riker nods at Duke, silently
encouraging him to answer her.

“Yeah, sure.
 
Whatever.”
 
Duke politely
offers.

“Haley's my connection to the outside world.
 
She's my eyes and ears.”
 
Riker boasts.

“And brains.”
 
Haley sasses.

Riker raises his hand to strike Haley for the comment.
 
She holds her ground, ready to strike
back.
 
Riker refrains, instead he
gives Haley a devilish push.
 
She
pushes him back.
 
These two like to
spar, both physically and emotionally.

“Come on, baby brother, follow us to our safe house.”
 
Riker calls to Duke.
 
With a sinister laugh he adds, “but if
you tell anyone where it is, I'm
gonna
have to kill
ya
.”

*****

Rita Gray works a pushcart in a seaside tourist mall selling silver and
turquoise jewelry – like Claire’s bracelet.
 
Rita, nearing sixty, has an old soul Santa Fe artist
vibe.
 
She owns her age and stage
with grace and
pizazz
and has no doubt smoked peyote
with a tribal chief lover.

Claire approaches carrying take-out food bags.
 
“Ready for dinner, Aunt Rita?”

“You bet.”
 
Aunt Rita
smiles.
 
“My body and soul hunger
for…”

“…Salsa bean salad with a side of fresh guacamole?”
 
Claire hopes.

Rita brings her palms together in front of her heart in gratitude and
appreciation. “
Nameste
.”

Aunt Rita pushes her cart closer to a picnic table near a raised garden
area.
 
They take a seat.
 
From the take out bags Claire removes a
salad, a
grande
beef burrito and two bottled
waters.
 
She hands
a water
and the salad to Rita.

“How was work today?”
 
Rita
inquires.

“Classified.”
 
Claire
deadpans as she digs into the burrito with gusto.

“As usual.”
 
Rita sighs
watching Claire relish the burrito. “Did I ever email you that article about
heart disease?”

“You did and I deleted it.”
 
Claire responds while wiping the corner of her lips with a paper napkin.
 
“I won't live in a world without beef
burritos.”

“Your one pleasure in life.”

“What do you mean my one pleasure?”
 
Claire wants to know.

“You have your work, you have me and you have that burrito.”

“That's three pleasures, even though you're not all that pleasurable at
this particular moment.”
 
Claire
jests with love.

“You should think about expanding your horizons.”
 
Rita suggests.

“Not until I catch the bad guys.”

“You shouldn't be so consumed with the bad.
 
You need to immerse yourself in something peaceful and
joyful.
 
I know it's
cliche
, but it is still sound advice, stop and relish the
beauty and fragrance of flowers once in awhile.”
 
Rita encourages.

Claire's cell phone rings.
 
She looks at the incoming text message.
 
“Speaking of one of my three pleasures, duty calls.”

Claire and Whitmore stand near a tan chenille couch in front of a
gas fueled
fireplace undressing each other.
 
Claire unbuttons and removes Whitmore’s
white shirt while he plants wet kisses on her neck.
 
The dancing flames from the fireplace surround the couple
with a warm glow.

“About the jewelry store sting.”
 
Claire whispers as she unzips Whitmore’s pants.

Whitmore responds between kisses. “No matter what you tempt me with
tonight, I'm not changing my mind.
 
The only undercover where you belong is under the sheets.”

“You are such a typical middle-aged white collar white male who wants to
subjugate women.”
 
Claire protests
as she pulls his pants down and he steps out of them.

“I know better.
 
There's no
subjugating you, Claire.”
 

Claire persists.
 
“Do you
really think Brent Langer is right for…
”

“I swear the only reason you sleep with me is so we can talk shop
afterwards.” Whitmore teases as he lifts Claire’s silk shirt over her head.

“You say the sweetest things.”
 
Claire purrs as she kisses Whitmore’s muscular chest.
 

“Thank god the
bureau has a no fraternization policy, being in a legit relationship with you
would be exasperating.”
 
Whitmore
whispers passionately in Claire’s ear, not really believing this to be true.
 

“Whit, even if
there wasn’t a no fraternization policy, you know my feelings about...”

Whit stifles
Claire’s comment by covering her mouth with a kiss.
 
“Let’s not ruin the moment,” he suggests as he pulls her
body closer to his.
 
The kiss turns
torrid.
 
In
a
frenzy
they remove the remaining pieces of their clothing.
 

Whitmore
guides Claire down onto the rug.
 
She spreads her legs in anticipation
,
foreplay
is over
.
 
He enters her with
a commanding thrust.
 
Claire,
arching her hips, meets Whitmore’s impassioned thrusts.
 
Their thrusts grow in intensity as
thoughts of work, Riker Reeves and their complicated relationship fade from
mind.
 

*****

Riker’s jeep, followed by Duke on his motorcycle, pulls up and parks in
front of a cabin.
 
The place is
completely isolated, remote and surrounded by woods.
 
There’s not a neighbor for miles and miles.
 

The cabin is two stories, made of logs, with a wrap around deck.
 
This is a hunter's paradise.
 
Riker and Haley get out of the jeep and
head up the stairs to the deck.
 
Duke follows.
 
Duke stands
on the deck, looking up into the night sky at the millions of stars.

“See what a little larceny can buy
ya
, baby
brother?”
 
Riker boasts.

“He bought me.
 
This place
was part of the deal.”
 
Haley adds.

“It's quiet.”
 
Duke says
with appreciation.

“It won't be once Riker and I get in the bedroom.
 
I'm a screamer.”
 
Haley crows.

“Damn straight she is.”
 
Riker concurs.

Duke's attention is on the stars and not on Haley or his brother.

Haley moves next to Duke, leaning up against him.
 
She grabs his bicep, impressed by what
she feels.
 
“The strong silent
type, huh?”

Duke doesn't respond.
 
Haley
unbuttons her blouse, ready to take it off.
 
Riker could care less.
 
Duke won’t give her the satisfaction of even one glance.

Losing interest Haley heads for the door.
 
“See
ya
inside, Riker.”
 
Haley and Riker lock eyes, sharing a
knowing look.
 
Haley enters the
cabin leaving Riker and Duke alone on the deck.
 
Duke turns his attention from the sky to his brother.

“Is she coming with us?”
 
Duke wants to know.

“Nope.
 
I got what I needed
out of her.
 
Once I get my hands on
one last stash, it's you and me, baby brother.”

Duke looks relieved.
 
“Good.”

Riker puts his arm around Duke and says what he knows his brother wants
to hear.
 
“It's been too
friggin
' long since I've seen
ya
.
 
After the score, it's
gonna
be just brother time. I
promise you that.”

*****

Brent Langer, in his late twenties, with mid-western American farm boy
charm, wearing a security uniform, nervously waits alone in an FBI conference
room.

Brent removes a hand-written note from his pocket and reads it.
 
Whatever it says, the words seem to
have a calming effect on him.
 
As
he reads the note, Claire enters.

Brent fumbles the note as if he were just caught with his hand in the
cookie jar.
 
“Umm, I was just
reading a note.” He mutters.