I gotta say it.
It ain’t nice, or even necessary, but it’s gotta be said.
I liked New Hope a lot more when all the non-essential personnel weren’t around.
Seems mean spirited and narrow-minded to even think about, but the place is more pleasant without all the extra deadwood drifting floating about. Let’s be real. The town was functioning perfectly fine with less than half the population, so what real value does that missing half bring? Besides increased demand for consumer goods that is. More traffic in the streets, bodies in the shops, and smells in the air, but they don’t provide more labourers for essential services like construction, waste removal, or even guard patrols. They ain’t technical specialists either, because those stuck around, like Danny the Artificer, Mr. Kalthoff the gunsmith, Uncle Art the medico, or other vital jobs we can’t do without. Sure, a town ain’t a town without a touch of the frivolous, but how many candle and scented soaps stores do we really need? Or bankers for that matter, who far as I can tell don’t do much besides loan out the money you give them to keep safe and secure, which if you ask me seems like a backwards way of going about security. Don’t need so many middle managers either, especially when most couldn’t manage to get their heads out of their asses if their lives depended on it.
Then there’s the rich socialites who’ve made it big, usually by being in the right place at the right time or growing too big to compete with and monopolizing a certain facet in a certain trade. Some own land close to the docks and charge a fortune to anyone who needs to store things, while others own companies that fulfill lucrative government contracts with products made as cheaply as possible. Still more fill financial niches that don’t make no sense to me at all. Like an advertising agency who pre-purchases ad space in the papers then resells it at a premium, or freight brokers whose sole purpose is to arrange wagon and caravan schedules as if they don’t end up rolling into town all at the same time anyways. Don’t forget the army of career middlemen, a group Americans can’t seem to live without. Auctioneers, information brokers, employment agents, speculators, money lenders, insurance agents, and more, all these jobs provide little to no real value in my opinion, because all they really do is take a product from a company they ain’t affiliated with and facilitate a sale to the customer. Meaning all those fancy titles are really just euphemisms for ‘salesman’, and the only things worse than professional salesmen are con-artists and lawyers.
Yeah, forget the town. The whole Frontier would be better off without any of those so-called vocations, even though every old worlder I’ve ever talked to thinks this is just how things work. As if the world would fall apart without middlemen, forcing folks to look into things for themselves. I don’t really get it, and I’ve never bothered engaging with none of those seemingly made-up jobs, ones that I suspect only exist because some people just too stupid to trust with anything of real importance, and don’t no one want them to starve or feel like they taking charity. To make matters worse, these sorta ‘white-collar’ workers all seem to have a chip on their shoulders about the ‘blue collar’ types, acting like they better just because they don’t gotta get their hands dirty when they work. That right there is what really burns me, the general disdain for the real hard-working types, those who stuck it out here in New Hope to keep things running while all them non-essential types took a government paid vacation in the nearest town for the last few weeks.
Backwards is what that is. Not like I’m asking for praise and salutations either. Just a bit of self-awareness from the townies who ran off at the first sign of hardship and are coming back in droves now that all the danger has passed. Not only do the rest of us have to deal with the increased traffic and workload from so many folks coming home at once, we gotta put up with their snooty attitudes too as they make their demands and cause a general fuss because it’ll take more than a day or two to get everything back on track. Food and drink are the big issues, and I see that firsthand Saturday morning when I head out to the main thoroughfare and find the streets jam packed with townies looking to restock their empty fridges. There are so many lines leading out of every store, it’s causing a backup of actual traffic as the wagons of latecomers and suppliers gotta navigate through the crowd of brainless idiots standing out in the middle of the streets. The rush to prepare for the 4th of July celebration come Tuesday isn’t helping things much, as everyone is looking to buy a new outfit, get their hair styled, or accessorize with the latest fashions before the big event.
As for me? I get put to work by Aunty Ray and lend a hand putting up stalls, stages, and decorations, a task which keeps me busy all weekend long and even busier in the seventh inning stretch once Monday and Tuesday rolls around. I get maybe three hours of practice in at the gun range, with the same general lack of success as always, and I don’t even think to ask Carter to go through the Ceremony of Connection because there just ain’t been enough time in the day to ponder the question of who I am or who I’m gonna be.
I got a general idea of what I want to do of course, be a father and a watered-down version of the Firstborn as best I can, but the details are iffy at best. I’ve looked into specialist jobs, like repair man or a technician working with Wards, Aetheric Dynamos, curios and more. Also considered putting my Diviner skills to work as a prospector, surveyor, guide, or even an investigator. Worst comes to worst, I could just work in a factory same as most other folks, or try my hand at professional construction since I ain’t half bad at it. Problem is, none of that work really speaks to me, nor does it make me excited to wake up every morning. The Diviner work appeals to me most, but a prospector don’t do much exploring. No, they sit in a lab and look at samples brought in by other people, then write long reports that almost hardly no one reads. Surveyors are more hands on, as you gotta see a place to draw a map of it, but while I can read a map just fine and can find my way through the wilderness even without one, my art skills leave much to be desired because I got no way to translate what I know in my head into lines on a piece of paper.
As for detective work? Seems like it’d be right up my alley, if not for two issues. One, I ain’t much for deduction. I can read a man well enough, figure out what sort of person they are and life they’ve lived with a little conversation, but I’m terrible judge of character. My track record speaks for itself, trusting the likes of Conner, Miss Laura, and to some extent, Noora when I should’ve known better and kept my mouth shut. The other issue is my complete and utter lack of respect for the judicial process. The gears of Federal Justice turn slow and jam often, so most of the time, I prefer to handle things myself, and knowing me, if I come across a piece of human garbage, I ain’t gonna turn him in for due process, which could land me in hot water. It’s one thing to hunt a bounty, because that means the fella already been judged and found wanting, but killing a suspect of a crime is a crime in and of itself, even if everyone know they guilty.
So yeah. Things are tricky. Thought I’d have it all figured out by the time I was done with my 480 hours of hard labour, but I still got no earthly idea where to go from here once the afternoon of July 4th rolls around. With the last stage built and decorations set, I head home for a shower so I can get ready for the big event. While I’m at it, I thank the Lord for being born a man when I discover Tina, Chrissy, and Aunty Ray ain’t back from their hair appointments with Madame Martin. They were scheduled for noon, and even though it’s 4 p.m. now, they still ain’t back yet. Only took me 20 minutes to shower, run a comb through my hair, and throw on a white dress shirt, black pinstripe blazer, and matching pants, with 5 of those minutes spent wiping down my best Stetson, a creamy white leather piece with a thin, braided black leather band and no bull’s head medallion.
After sitting around in my Sunday best and twiddling my thumbs a bit, I leave a note on the dining table saying I’ll see them later tonight. Wanted a look-see at their dresses before heading over to pick up Josie and Noora, but I also wanted to get things off of my chest so Aunty Ray hears the truth from my own mouth before picking it up through the grapevine. Little chance of that now though, because even if I make a beeline for her as soon as possible, I won’t outpace the rumour mill even with Longstrider, Expeditious Retreat, and the Fly Spell all cast on me at once.
A tiny voice in the back of my head is loathe to admit that maybe, just maybe, I’d feel better if I had Aunty Ray’s blessing, but the louder, larger, more pragmatic parts of my brain are all certain she’d be against it. Nothing for it now though, because I left it too late, mostly so she wouldn’t have time to convince me otherwise. I’m a stubborn one, no two ways about it, but if there’s anyone who can sway, browbeat, guilt-trip, or otherwise convince me to change my mind, it’s Aunty Ray.
Strange feeling, being so nervous about a simple question, one I’m fairly certain I already know the answer to, but I still worry about all the same. The mere prospect of rejection has got my chest tight, head light, mouth dry, and body sweating as I knock on Josie’s door and wait for someone to answer. I got a key, but I only use it when no one’s around to see, as we’re all trying to keep up appearances for the most part. It’s one thing for us to go around holding hands or linking arms all around town, which already gets us more than our fair share of concerned glances. Mostly because it’s usually me and 2-5 women, namely Josie, Noora, Chrissy, Tina, and Elodie all in a row. It’s all perfectly innocent with 3 out of said 5 participants, but 40% wrong is still 100% frowned upon, and most of the returnees haven’t had weeks to get used to the sight.
All my nerves and stress come to a standstill as Josie answers the door in her outfit, looking sweet and gorgeous as can be. She’s got me sweating for different reasons entirely as she stands there with a pair of suspender straps clinging gamely onto her tiny, red-plaid skirt, one that sits about half a hand above her knees to show off a tantalizing amount of thigh alongside the entirety of her calves. Once past the skirt though, her lovely midriff is on full display, from her shapely hips across her flat stomach to just under her sternum where her white half-shirt just sort of ends, but not in a loose, hanging sort of fashion. Instead, it looks like the tee was stitched for someone with shoulders twice as wide as their torso is long, with the tight fabric stretched across her slender frame. The modest neckline tracing her collarbones don’t do nothing to hide what she’s got under there, and while Josie ain’t the bustiest gal around town, she got enough curves in all the right places to make a man think all sorts of ungentlemanly thoughts. A short black tie sits around her neck, one that ends in a pointed tip just above her bosom like it’s telling you where you ought to look, though my eyes don’t need no signs or signals to help me out there. Last, but not least is the big, red ribbon in her lovely hair, brushed and gathered together in a loose low ponytail that is simple, elegant, and oh so fitting for this little lady who done stole my heart and made it her own.
“Wow,” I manage to say, before swallowing hard to keep myself from drooling. “Now ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
Josie’s giggle is music to my ears as she grabs me by the lapel and pulls me inside. “How many women you sweet talked with that silver tongue of yours?” she asks, pulling me along behind her as she makes her way upstairs. “Best have something ready to say for Noora too, because I’ll snitch if you say the same thing.”
My arms slip around her waist, and sensing my impure intent, Josie slaps my hand way with a teasing little growl. “Not yet,” she says, giving me a sultry little look from over her shoulder, one I would fight, die, and come back from hell for. “You mess up my clothes, hair, or makeup and we’ll be here for another hour for each one, and I want to go out tonight.”
“Why don’t you change into something more comfortable first?” I ask, only half-joking as I suggest it. “And less revealing. I’ll fight off any man who comes near, but I was hoping for a nice and relaxing night of fun and festivities, not a blood war to end all wars to keep you on my arm.”
“Again with the compliments,” she says, pausing on the stairs to lean back against my chest, which just so happens to cause her whole body to melt against mine in a most sensuous fashion. “You must really like my outfit.”
“I hate it,” I growl, hugging her tight and pressing back against her, though I doubt it has the same effect on her as her body pressed against me. “Shows too much skin, which I love to look at, but loathe the idea of anyone else seein’. Gonna be glarin’ left, right, and centre at anyone who dares look at you, and believe you me, there gonna be a lot of looky-looks staring in your direction.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I only got eyes for you, guapo,” she replies, all smiles as she turns her head for an all-too-brief peck on the lips. There’s a twinkle in her gaze that sweeps away all my concerns, and suddenly, I can breathe easy again, because don’t matter what life or the Frontier throws at me so long as I got this woman here at my side. Whatever may come, we’ll get through it together, and so long as we got each other, everything else is just gravy.
Takes a hot minute before we make it up the stairs and into the room where Noora’s sat in front of her mirror adding purple highlights to her hair with Prestidigitation, all done up in a big French braid and looking lovely as can be. Flashing us both a knowing grin from over her shoulder, she looks us up and down and says, “Hmm. I’m surprised you’re both still clothed with how long it took you to get here.” Turning about in her chair, she pops up onto her feet and saunters over to join our group hug, as I have yet to remove my arms from around Josie’s slender and oh so touchable waist. Dressed in a similar, smaller, and shorter outfit of purple rather than red, Noora’s got more calf, thigh, and tummy on display, and far more cleavage to boot, because instead of a shirt, she just wearing a white bra that contrasts so very well with her alluring caramel skin. Much like Josie, Noora is a slim and slender gal who ain’t exactly voluptuous, but she ain’t shy about showing off what she got either, as that short tie might well be all that keeps her even somewhat modest, and even then at most only half-modest at any given time.
Which in a strange way is how she armours herself against the ugliness in the world. Rather than cover up, she bares as much as she can, not just so she can use her feminine wiles against us, but also so she knows who to watch out for from their undisguised stares. Can’t always tell when someone’s a pervert, sadist, or worse at first glance, but catch them off guard and you might get a glimpse of the darkness hiding underneath.
Makes me feel mildly conflicted about openly staring as she slow walks over, until I realize the whole reasons she’s moving so slowly is so I can get a good, long look. That plus her teasing smile and exaggerated hip sway means she’s enjoying the game, so I look for as long as I can while engraving every sight, smell, sound and sensation into memory so I don’t ever forget it for so long as I still draw breath.
Course, rather than pay Noora any compliments, I play into her game and put on my stern, serious face for a minute. “Ain’t no way you goin’ out lookin’ like that young lady,” I say, and both girls lock eyes before bursting out in a fit of giggles. They seem to find it endearing when I play the role of father figure, or grandfather figure as they’ll sometimes say. Can’t help it though, because childish antics ain’t ever been my thing, not when there’s so much work to be done. Just how I’m built is all, always focused on the goal and the next few after that, which I suppose is why I’m having so much trouble adjusting to new circumstances. That ain’t a problem for tonight though. No, tonight is a night for fun and memories, a night we’ll all remember for the rest of our lives because it signals the real beginning of our time together as one big happy family.
Ideally of course. Realistically, I’m not so sure if Noora’s onboard with that, and truth be told, even though Josie’s never given me reason to doubt, I still got plenty all the same. So after Noora puts on the shirt she was always intending to wear, and praising their outfits to high Heaven, I give myself a quick moment to go over what I’m gonna say before diving right into the thick of it. “Look,” I begin, and my tone cuts right through the lighthearted mood to bring both girls back down to earth. “I know we said we’d wait until after the celebrations to focus on our future, but there’s something I gotta get off my chest first.” Judging by Noora’s wide-eyed and reluctant look, she’s already guessed what’s about to happen, but sweet Josie looks lost as she reads my nervous expression and is hit by a truckload of uncertainties she’s been struggling with since the start of our atypical relationship.
So to keep her panic to a minimum, I push on and let the words all come out in a rush. “What we got here?” I begin, gesturing at the three of us, “No matter how you slice it, the chances of things working out long term is a long shot to be sure, but I want to at least try.” Standing up, I brush my pants off just to have something to do before taking a deep breath and pushing on. “I ain’t proud to admit it, but here’s the truth. I’m in love with the both of you.” Meeting Josie’s eyes, I repeat myself. “I love you Josie Ramirez.” Turning to Noora, I do the same. “And I love you, Noora Amari.” I shrug. “It is what it is, and ain’t much I can do about the truth.”
Josie answers in the positive, telling me she loves me too, but Noora keeps quiet because she ain’t entire sure just yet. That’s fine though, because I figured as much, and I give her a warm smile that I hope conveys my understanding. “Like I said before,” I continue, after a quick kiss with Josie to give Noora time to recover, “I can’t exactly make honest women of the both of you, now can I?” Focusing my attention on Josie, I sink into her warm and loving eyes, one so full of anticipation but also doubt and hesitance, because even though she’s always known exactly what she wants, she ain’t so sure if this is what I want too, so it’s up to me to convince her. “In many ways, this ain’t ideal,” I continue, and it pains me to see her hopes waver and dip, so I reach out for her hand and bring her fingers up to my lips. “One thing my daddy taught me though? Things rarely goes as planned, so you gotta roll with the punches and make the most out of what you got, and what I got here is more than I ever dreamed of.” I glance over at Noora to include her in the conversation, and at the same time express that I’ll understand if she wants out, or if all she’s here for is a good time, rather than a long time. Dunno how much of it reaches her, as she’s still panicked at the thought of me getting all possessive and controlling, which is why I gotta tread lightly and leave her free and clear as much as I can.
Because even if she leaves me, I still got Josie, and having the love of a woman like her is enough to make me the luckiest man on the Frontier.
“You and me go back a long way,” I say with a smile, and Josie blushes to hear it. “The more I think about it, the more memories I have of us circling each other’s orbits and just barely passing each other by. Wasn’t until I sat down and asked if Chrissy could join your hair-braiding circle that we really interacted, and when Danny told me the reason you was always dropping by in his shop was because you were interested in me, my first thought was to deny it. Couldn’t be. Why would sweet Josie Ramirez be interested in little old me? Pretty, popular girl like her could have her pick of the litter, so ain’t no way I’d ever make the list.”
Josie laughs, and the look in her eyes speaks volumes to how she feels. Got a way of looking at me that just radiates desire, and I was a fool not to see it sooner, so I do my best to show her how I feel about her too. “I never believed in love at first sight,” I say, and the quick shift in tone throws her for a loop. “Still don’t if I’m being honest, because the first time I saw you, you was probably bald as an egg with more wrinkles than a raisin.” That gets me another laugh and a slap on the chest, one which I pretend to stagger from so I can drop down on one knee and grab the ring box from my pouch. “Can’t hardly believe how fast I’ve fallen head over heels for you either, but here I am.” Opening the velvet case to reveal the engagement ring sitting inside, I hold it out like you supposed to so she can get a good look, but Josie’s only got eyes for me.
Yeah, she knows how to make a man feel loved, and best of all, she don’t even gotta work at it. “That’s why I’m here down on one knee,” I say. “Not because I have to be, but because I want to, because you make me want to be here Josie. Tomorrow, we’ll talk to everyone and figure out what we gonna do next with the baby and our lives both, but regardless of what decision we come to, I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Felt it in my heart from the moment our lips first touched, and though it took some time for my head to catch up, I got there eventually. These last few months have been a whirlwind of emotion, with the highest of highs and the lowest of lows for the both of us, but whatever may come, I want you and me to face it together.”
Swallowing past the big lump in my throat, because Josie still ain’t given much indication of whether she’s agreeable or not, I pop the big question. “Josie Ramirez, will you marry me?” I pause to wait for her answer, then accidentally say the quiet part out loud because I’m too nervous to keep my mouth shut. “Please say yes.”
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A moment stretches into an eternity as Josie draws a deep breath, but then her eyes light up even brighter and my worries are all laid to rest. “Yes,” she replies with a laugh, only to purse her lips as tears spill down her cheeks, tears I quickly wick away with the kerchief she embroidered for me. One I’ve kept on my person since she gave it to me, and was sitting in my breast pocket with the big stitched lettering on full display. “Yes I’ll marry you, as if there was ever any doubt I would.”
A switch flips in me, and the world is bright and cheery once more as I set the ring on Josie’s finger before gently lifting her up in my arms and twirling her about. Staring into her eyes as I put her down, we bask in the joyous moment for a long minute before I tear my eyes away and glance over at Noora, who’s standing there looking happy and petrified at the same time. “Relax,” I say with a grin, and Noora matches my energy as I stand there with one arm wrapped around Josie and the other stretched in invitation to come over for a hug. “I’m not about to ask you to marry me too.” Not tonight at least.
“It’s not you,” Noora says, all apologetic even though she ain’t really rejected me.
“I know,” I say with a smile, one that ain’t even all that sad as I open up my arm in invitation for an embrace, one she accepts after a moment’s hesitation. That moment is like a dagger to the heart, because it just goes to show she still don’t trust me. Not me as a person, but me as a man, because she’s worried I’m like every other man she’s ever known and thinks I just hide it better. That’s trauma though, so I won’t hold it against her, even as I hold her close and do everything I can to reassure her she’s wrong. “You ain’t ready to settle down so quick, and like to keep your options open.” To say nothing of her exits close. To her, a marriage wouldn’t be nothing but a cage or a collar, something to tie her down when she’s only just found her freedom again. Doesn’t matter how much she cares about me or Josie, Noora’s not ready to commit to anything, whether it be a person, profession, or even location, as she’s still figuring out what she wants to do with her life. Marriage and children would do away with so very many options, so if I were to force a decision upon her by proposing, she would undoubtedly rabbit and run. Not the healthiest relationship we have, but it’s fun and safe for the most part, or at least that’s how she sees it.
So ain’t nothing I can do but let Noora be Noora, no matter what that might entail. Could be she runs off to find adventure and opportunity by her lonesome while me and Josie are raising our kid, or maybe she finds a job she loves and sticks around long enough to realize a relationship ain’t a chain that binds her, but rather a support to hold her up. Could be something of a mix between the two, or could be she falls in love with some other guy or gal. Who knows? Not me and not Noora, but whatever may come, I gotta let her make the decision herself, because any application of pressure will only scare her off. Doesn’t matter how much I want her to stick around and continue our little household of three. I gotta let her decide if that’s what she wants, and understand that she might very well decide that it isn’t.
Rather than say all that though, I give her a smile and say, “Ball’s in your court. Power in your hands. Whatever you decide, I want you to know I’ll be there to help and support you.” Don’t much like having to play passive, but that’s how it’s gotta be, so I try not to overstate my position and just add, “No matter what. Understand?” She nods, snuggling into my embrace while Josie strokes her hair, and the three of us stand there for a little longer to let it all sink in.
“Bah,” Noora exclaims, a few minutes later. “This is peak Howie. Always gotta be so serious. Can’t just leave a night to be fun, gotta think and plan for future too.” Popping up to plant a peck on my cheek to take away the sting of her complaint, she gives Josie a kiss too and says, “Well, let me be the first to congratulate the happy couple. Show me the ring.”
I didn’t go too ostentatious, because Josie’s not one for glam and glamour, but that don’t mean I cheaped out either. Much like her hairstyle, the ring I picked out is simple in design, yet exquisite once you really get down into the details, and my future wifey gasps as she finally gets a good look before professing how much she loves it. And me, a statement punctuated by several kisses and more which leave me desperately wishing we could all stay in for the night instead of going out to a festival I don’t really care to partake in. That ain’t why I keep my opinion to myself though. No, even though I ain’t all that jazzed about tonight, Josie’s been looking forward to it all week, because tonight marks so very many milestones in her life.
It ain’t just about the Mindspire going down or the 4th of July in 2007. Josie’s also a fresh graduate with a high school diploma, and by the time the next big celebration rolls around come October, she might well be showing her pregnancy and in no shape to dance or party for a few more months yet, not to mention the years after when we’ll have a kid to look after and scant few babysitters to count on. Me, I grew up quick because my daddy pushed me to, but Josie’s about to do the same over the next few months, and it ain’t gonna be easy. Girl’s only 15 going on 16 and on track to be a momma by spring next year, so best she make the most out of her youth while she still can.
“Do you really need to bring those?” Josie asks, and it takes me a second to realize she’s talking about the guns on my belt which I’m currently buckling back on. “The Mindspire isn’t a threat anymore, so you really don’t need so many guns. Or even one for that matter.” Which is her way of hinting that she wants me to go around unarmed, but I might as well go naked too for how it’d make me feel. “The belt ruins the neat lines of your figure,” she says, running her hands down my sides before pinching lightly with a smile. “And you look so dashing in your outfit tonight.”
“Needs a colourful tie to pop,” Noora chimes in, reaching out to stroke my torso too with a devilish smile that says she knows exactly what she’s doing and enjoys seeing me squirm. “The white hat is a nice touch though. Very stylish.”
“Uncle Raleigh used to wear one just like it,” I say with a grin. “Always knew how to dress well without going overboard.”
That said, I let them dress me however they please, though it pains me to see my guns go into the safe. Josie finds me a lovely reddish-orange tie from her papa’s wardrobe to wear, which doesn’t win me over until I see myself wearing it in the mirror. Gotta say, the splash of colour in my otherwise black and white ensemble really makes the whole outfit come together, and I ain’t shy about saying it neither. Noora basks in the praise, while Josie wraps her arms around my waist and looks at our reflection, one I commit to memory using the Photograph Cantrip cast with a Still Metamagic to eschew the somatic component.
“You,” Josie whispers, her tone all low and throaty with just a hint of a growl, “Must introduce me to Luisa and help convince her to teach me how to cook. I love how much she’s fattened you up, and hate that it wasn’t my cooking that did it.” Giving me a squeeze around the midsection for good measure, she makes no secret of how much she enjoys having her hands all over me.
Which is about all I can handle, but Josie deftly maneuvers away before I can convince her to stay in. Noora’s every bit as excited, because she’s never really been to a big shindig before, and we’ve pulled out all the stops here tonight. We got all the usual hits like carnival games, acrobatic acts, and recreations of old shows, as well as all the food and drinks we could ask for. Most of which are charging for their services, which again, I think goes against the spirit of celebration, especially since they could easily get funding from the Rangers to set up their stalls instead. That ain’t for me to nitpick though, and I shell out for whatever it is the girls want, grateful that I had the foresight to slip Tina some extra cash yesterday in case her hairdresser or dressmaker wanted more money. Even if they did, she should still have enough to pay for a few games and some food for Chrissy and Elodie, because Josie don’t look like she in any rush to find them.
And can’t say I blame her either. We got the rest of our lives to spend with my strange sorta family, so it’s only fair to let her have tonight.
Then again, being the sweet and loving girl that she is, the thought might never have crossed Josie’s mind. Only reason we ain’t covering much ground is because people keep stopping her to chat, as she got a whole lot more friends and acquaintances than I do around these parts. Most are fellow students who haven’t seen her in weeks since they left to get away from the Mindspire, and their conversations all circle around the big dance later tonight. Was arranged by their teachers as a sort of graduation present, a stage and dance floor for teens 15 and older, with only a handful of chaperones to keep things kosher and no parents to speak of for several hours at the very least. Sounds like a dream for most of them young’uns, but the funny thing is most pretend not to think much of it before asking Josie if she’s going. A trendsetter she is, my lovely bride-to-be, one of the most popular girls in school or so I’m told, and she’s got all the kids raring to show up soon as the first song plays.
Most of the girls notice her new jewellery, but the significance escapes most, as they more impressed by how it looks as opposed to what finger Josie’s wearing it on. We get a few strange looks from the more insightful ones, but none of them ask outright and neither one of us say much of anything about it, as we ain’t ready to tell the world just yet. Me, I’m just praying Aunty Ray don’t hear nothing about it until I’ve had a chance to let her know, and that she accepts my decision and is willing to wait until tomorrow to talk about it with all three of us. Tonight ought to be about Josie, not the pregnancy or our upcoming nuptials, just a night where she can be the girl that she is and enjoy it like all the other girls her age.
Which is why I wanted to give Aunty Ray a heads up first, so she wouldn’t feel compelled to hunt me down and confirm the facts for herself. She can be a scary woman when she wants to be, and while my daddy was the disciplinarian, wasn’t no punishment as bad as disappointing Aunty Ray.
Noora’s pretty popular too, and their fashion gets talked about more often than not. I gotta give the mean mug to more than a few kids and old timers who let their eyes linger too long, and while I can’t fault them for looking, they ought to know their place and move along before I get to moving them. As for the younger boys who come up with chests puffed and feathers preened looking to get in good with Noora, she don’t need me to handle them. No, she’s more than capable of giving them the run around all by her lonesome before sauntering off with her arm linked in mine while Josie does the same on the other side.
The pleasant company of my two lovely dates aside, the evening is a mind-numbing ordeal of introductions and small talk with people I don’t much care to meet. Knowing me like she does, Josie makes an effort to let me know when I’m talking to someone she wants me to remember, but it’s hard to put names to faces until I got factoids to go with them. Plus most these kids got nothing interesting to talk about and just want to hear war stories of the Firstborn. Thing is, even when I had both my hands and never doubted my claim to the title, I wasn’t one for tooting my own horn, so I keep things neat and tidy with minimal details to make things sound boring as watching paint dry.
Yeah, I shot four mafiosos posing as guards looking to break an inmate out of jail. Sure, I killed a lot of Abby these last couple weeks, what with how many been roaming about. It’s true, I helped tracked down a group of settlers who’d been captured by Abby and got them all out alive. All stories printed in the papers these last few weeks, and articles I only know about because Aunty Ray is a scrapbooker who cuts each and every one out to preserve for the sake of posterity.
Ain’t no talking to these kids though. They don’t want to hear about how one encounter left me bleeding out of my eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, or how one mistake against them mafiosos would’ve seen me and Chrissy both dead. Don’t want to hear about the intricacies of the Detect Abby Spell either, or how I was able to tinker with the Locate Object Spell to get it working neither. No, they just want to hear about the gunfighting and Spellslinging and be entertained by my tales, but I ain’t no clown here to amuse them, and the fact that they expect it just rubs me the wrong way. Josie is a little exasperated by my lack of social graces, but she don’t give me any push back about it, while Noora understands why I do it and helps run interference when some kids don’t get the hint and keep pushing for a story. Man or woman, they don’t stand a chance against her charms, as all it takes is a smile and a touch to get them hanging onto her every word.
That said, I’m downright grateful when it comes time to head to the dance, though there’s a whole speech and ceremony beforehand. Once there, we link up with Tina, Chrissy, and Elodie, who are all dressed to impress, especially my all American sorta-sister with her corn silk hair and sapphire blue eyes, looking all sorts of lovely with her hair all done in layers and brushed out. With her flicks somehow suspended to the sides of her face and out the way of her eyes. Gotta be some sorta magic or something, as her long bangs perfectly frame her round face as she lights up to see us. Got her expensive spider-silk dress on too, a material Danny ain’t been able to get his hands on to test for Bolt-resistant properties, and I idly wonder if Tina will be willing to donate her dress to the cause after tonight.
Not likely, because while Josie and Noora have gone with a party girl sort of theme, Tina’s dress is full-on Fancy with a capital F. Nothing too gauche or overstated, as it’s a lightweight piece of sheer blue fabric that flutters in the wind and shimmers in the light. Rather than straps, there’s a band that ties off behind her neck, leaving her arms, shoulders, and back fully bared while keeping her neckline modest and waistline scandalous as it hugs her hips oh so tightly. Add in her Innate Brand that looks so much like a circlet, and she almost looks regal until she grabs hold of Chrissy and Elodie’s hands and high tails it over to greet us, ruining the regal image with her squared shoulders and straightforward stomps. Gives me a good minute to compose myself and study the other girls’ dresses too, both of whom are looking lovely as can be. Chrissy’s silver hair is looking fabulous all done up in a big braided bun, and she looks downright lively as she skips on over to show it off. Pairs well with her white, short-sleeved dress that don’t look much different from the sundresses she so loves to wear, aside from the fact that it’s shimmery and more form fitting to show off her figure. Don’t like that much, or the fact that her shoulders are also bared, and I’ve no earthly idea what’s holding the dress up since she got no shoulder straps to keep things in place.
Magic probably would be my guess, as women do some incredible things with minor Cantrips that a man could never come up with.
As for Elodie, she didn’t have no fancy salon appointment, but it seems like her mama went the extra mile helping her with her hair and dress. Her hair is all brushed and done up with beads and feathers in a traditional Native American style, left long and loose for the most part for an almost naturally chic sort of look. She’s also got a lovely white buckskin dress decorated with what look to be rows of tassels at first glance, but are actually silver cones that ring out every time she moves. And move she does, bouncing from one foot to the other as she moves about in a stop and go fashion, all too happy to enjoy the music she makes as she subtly dances about in bare feet with a big smile on her face.
Beams even brighter when I compliment her dress, and gets to bouncing a bit livelier. “Mama made it for me,” Elodie proclaims, throwing her arms wide open so we can get a better look at the design. The thin, white leather dress comes with a green waistband wrapped around her hips, which does wonder to show off her athletic figure. “She says it is for a powerful healing Ritual of our tribe, one that belongs to the Blessing Way, but neither she nor papa knows it, so we cannot perform it. The dress is still very pretty though, and I love the sounds it makes. Like light rain on a metal rooftop, all ‘tinkle-linkle-ling’.”
As if to prove it, Elodie spins about and sets her dress to ringing once more, and we all praise it to high Heaven. I give Chrissy plenty of compliments too, before asking if she’s cold with her neck and shoulders all exposed, but my ploy to convince her to take my jacket don’t go as planned. Instead, she lifts up her skirts like she about to curtsey and says, “Warm.”
Takes the promise of a cold drink to convince her to put her skirts back down, because her calves, ankles, and sandalled toesies are showing and drawing far too much attention for my liking. Then again, it could be Elodie’s striking appearance, or Tina’s glamourous dress, or Josie and Noora looking all sorts of lovely with how much bared flesh they got on display. Regardless of the reasons, I glare at every boy who got their eyes turned in our general direction, promising pain and worse to anyone who keeps staring. Most get the message and look away, but a few miss the memo until their friends bring them back to reality. Luckily, all my recent exploits have struck fear in the hearts of townies everywhere, because while Pleasant Dunes could’ve been a fluke, I’ve racked up a body count of Abby and mafiosos’ since that ain’t no one can deny.
Course, my exploits are soon forgotten as the teachers get on stage and talk about the graduating class for a bit, followed by the Marshal who comes out to congratulate them all. What’s more, he’s here to shine a spotlight on the recently graduated boots, and calls them up to the stage to pin a five-pointed star to their chests. One that says Recruit on the centre, in addition to American Ranger on the rim, but it’s still a star nonetheless, turning Tina, Kacey, Alfred, Michael, Sarah Jay, Errol, and a half-dozen other kids into genuine Federal soldiers. A bittersweet moment for me, because despite all that’s happened, I still wish I was up there on the stage with them, but it ain’t to be. Nor should I let it bring the mood down, so I keep a big smile on and clap and cheer as loud as can be before letting my mind go to the dark issues.
Which is why as soon as Tina comes down from the stage, I ask her to come fetch some drinks with me. Remembering how out of sorts she was about her birthday dress, I say, “You lookin’ all sorts of lovely Tina,” I say, just barely able to keep myself from glancing in plain view and weirding her out. “Thing is, you know how it is with that badge on your chest. Ain’t just an honour, but a burden too, and to some, a target to shoot at, you know what I mean? Dangerous world and all that, so you really should be carrying.”
“I’m strapped,” Tina mutters, puffing her cheeks ever so slightly in pique as she ladles chilled fruit punch into a cup, and I don’t think she even knows she’s done it.
“How?” I ask, before thinking better of it and holding up my hand. “Never mind,” I say, wholly focused on keeping my eyes on her hair instead of darting over to all the places she might be hiding her weapon. Like her cleavage, silly as that sounds, or inner thigh possibly, but most likely around her ankle since that’s the easiest place for her to reach. “Good to know that you carrying. Love the hair,” I add, just to win a few extra points and distract her from the fact that I ain’t armed. “How’d Madame Martin get it looking so…” Poofy is the word I want to use, but instead, I go with, “Lightweight?”
“She got a machine that blows hot air,” Tina says, her baby blues lighting up in wonder and delight. “A hair dryer she calls it. First thing I’m gonna buy when I get my paycheck next month. Loud as sin it is, and bulky too, but it works wonders if you know what you doin’.”
Letting her go on as I set a Mage Hand to ladling juice, we chit chat until we got six cups and bring them all back to the group. Chrissy downs her right quick, and I trade her my full cup for her empty one, which earns me the slightest smile you done ever seen, but still a smile nonetheless. “Thank you Howie,” Chrissy says, and wouldn’t you know it, I got nothing to say in reply, because it’s been years since I seen her smile and don’t rightly know how to feel.
Glancing around, I don’t think anyone else caught it, as they all too busy gabbing away like gals do. No point making a big fuss though, because it wasn’t like Chrissy intended to smile then or was willfully holding back on it all these years. Though she’s always been one to wear her emotions on her sleeve and shows them with her actions, they rarely ever make it to her face like that. It’s all thanks to Elodie, who’s been a great friend for Chrissy, and I thank the Lord for small favours and pray for still more to come. “You’re welcome Chrissy,” I say, reaching out my hand which she happily takes in hers. Even beats me to it, squeezing my fingers three times right quick which is what I was gonna do, so I just squeeze back, smile, and look forward to the day when she breaks out of her head and becomes a normal, regular girl again.
The whole thing puts a pip in my step as I bring Josie out for a dance, but not anything formal. Fact is, all the girls follow us out, and while I’m dancing with my bride to be, the others also bob and sway to the music in a group beside us. Don’t really get the appeal, but all the girls got big smiles on save for Chrissy, who looks relaxed and breezy as can be while having a grand old time. The girls link arms and do the do-si-do, or move to the music in an all too natural and graceful way, like they just know what to do once the notes start to flow. Me, I ain’t doing much more than swaying side to side and feel awkward as all heck doing it, but Josie takes my hand and suddenly don’t nothing else matter anymore, nothing but her bright eyes and beautiful smile.
This the woman who gonna be my wife. The thought hits me like a truck and lifts me high into the sky, like a Fly Spell for the Spirits and nothing else. I got her, and don’t nothing else matter, because she makes me feel ways I ain’t ever felt before. It’s not just her charming beauty, her intoxicating scent, or the feel of her slender body pressed up against mine that drives me so crazy for her. No, it’s her presence, her company, her mere existence that buoys me up so, because now I got someone to fight for, someone counting on me to come home at night, someone who wants me to hold her close when she sleeps. It ain’t about just me any longer. It’s me and her, and our child too in 7 or 8 months, a thought which fills me with anxious excitement that’s got me counting the minutes until we sit down with Aunty Ray come tomorrow morning.
Granted, some of that might be actual fear, because Aunty Ray got strong opinions and won’t be none to pleased to hear I done made such a big decision without talking to her first. She’ll come around eventually though, long as I remember not to call her a grandma before she does, and even then, she’ll be all smiles and coos once the baby comes around.
When it comes time to refresh everyone’s drink again, I head off to the punch table solo, because Tina’s having too much fun dancing with Elodie and Chrissy. Ain’t no trouble, as my Mage Hands can hold two cups a piece, and my real hand can do the same, so I get to ladling when I sense more than hear or see someone approach. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure everything’s on the up and up, my throat closes up at the sight of the stunning, smiling brunette who’s sidled up next to me. Classy don’t begin to cover it, as this olive-skinned mediterranean beauty got a dress on that even I know look expensive, and I’m not talking $80 expensive neither. No, her slinky, scandalous dress probably costs closer to $800, which don’t seem right considering how little fabric went into it. The deep V-neck don’t leave much to the imagination, and she got a whole lot to imagine about in both the chest and waist department, both of which are tastefully accentuated by her garishly expensive accessories. She got a bracelet covered in glittering diamonds, and earrings to match, as well as a lovely necklace adorned in jewels that I don’t look too closely at for fear of losing myself in the peaks and valleys bellow.
And the hair. Ain’t ever seen dark brown hair that shines like that, or got waves of crimps and curls layered within and frame her gorgeous face so perfectly. One that’s still got her baby fat too, but shows signs of the striking woman she’ll soon grow to be, a perfect 10 when it comes to her appearance, a 12/10 even, and utterly gorgeous if not for her cold smile and the undisguised arrogance emanating from her big brown eyes.
“You must be the Firstborn,” she says, in sultry yet precise tones while extending her left hand out, but not for a shake as she holding a folding fan in her loose grip. No, it’s like she wants me to kiss her ring, one with a diamond so big and ostentatious it makes her finger look twiggy in comparison. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“I’m sure it is,” I say, eyeing her proffered hand then turning away to go back to ladling juice. Here’s hoping Josie’s watching, or someone is and tells her, because snubbing the gorgeous socialite should win me big points. That ain’t why I’m doing it though. I just don’t like the way she presents herself, putting her best features up on display and watching my reaction with barely concealed amusement, like I’m one of them caged animals circuses keep for folks to gawk at. Seen her type before, someone who thinks her farts don’t stink and that everyone else is beneath her. Even though she most certainly comes in a pretty and voluptuous package, a lovely exterior don’t make up for a rotten interior, so I’ve no interest in making conversation. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” I say, giving her a nod as I step around to leave, “I’m ‘fraid I got some friends waitin’ on their drinks.”
Though taken aback by my dismissive attitude, the girlie recovers right quick. “And here I was hoping for a dance,” she says, with a mighty alluring pout as she grabs my free and handless arm while subtly leaning forward to draw my attention to all her feminine charms. “I came a long way just to attend, so surely you wouldn’t be so cruel as deny me this?”
A few months ago, I’d’ve turned into putty at a touch, but this girlie ain’t got nothing on Josie and Noora. Josie’s got a soft and hungry touch, one that just draws me in like a moth to a flame, while Noora’s got a push and pull sort of way about her that keeps me on my back foot. This girlie though? She got the looks, but her efforts to latch on and pull me in remind me of a kid throwing a tantrum, grabbing onto what she wants and refusing to let go because she thinks that’s all it takes to claim something.
“Sorry. Dance card’s full,” I say, not exactly pulling my arm free, but not going along with her game and letting her pull it into her substantial cleavage either. “I’m sure there are plenty of other fellas around who’d jump at the chance, so you won’t have any trouble finding another partner.”
The look of indignant incredulity on her youthful features is almost enough to make me laugh, but I keep a neutral expression while sliding my arm out of her grasp. “I didn’t just come here for the dance though,” she says, giving up my arm to cross hers and draw herself up to full height. Makes for an impressive sight it does, but it’d be better if she wasn’t two inches taller than I am on account of her three-inch heels. “I came to warn you.”
“What ‘bout?” I ask, stepping away and casually putting the two cups in my hand down while glancing around to scope things out.
“Let us start from the beginning,” the girlie says, beaming happily now that she’s finally got my attention. “My name is Mia Pugliano, and my uncle wants you dead.”
Well shoot. Now I really wish I’d stayed in with Noora and Josie. Least then I’d have my guns close to hand…
