Neelie's Story by Trish Jackson

It all began when Mom and Dad went out of town and left my great grandmother alone in the house with me. She was going on 91 and although she got a little more hunched over every year, she was still as feisty as ever.
Neelie's Story
Neelie's Story by Trish Jackson
"Come," she said to me after we finished dinner and I had loaded the dishwasher. "It is time for you to learn the wisdom." I never understood why she spoke with a Romanian accent. She was born in the U.S. and lived here all her life. I was thirteen at the time, and I didn't know exactly what she was alluding to, but it sounded like some kind of Gypsy crap. Again. My mother had never spoken much about her childhood, which is why, I suspected, my great grandmother waited until Mom and Dad were out of town for the night. My older brother, Graeme had already left home and joined the army, and was someplace in 'sandland' as he called it, so I was alone with her. She led the way, pushing her walker, and I followed her into the formal living room. "Sit." She commanded, and I dropped into the couch. I hope this isn't gonna take long. She stood between me and the coffee table, leaning on her walker. "My grandmother, Granny Luludja, she was the real Gypsy who came to the U.S. from Ireland with the Romanichals in 1889," she continued. I sighed and rolled my eyes. "I remember her well. We traveled around the United States trading in horses and visiting fairs. We had the best horses anywhere." Blah, blah, blah. I had heard all that before. I don't show any of my Gypsy blood. I take after my dad, who was blond with light green eyes, and I really wasn't interested in all of that stuff. I tried to think of some way out—some excuse to use to get away. "I have to do my homework, Puri, can we talk about this later?" "No. Now is time for the magic. Sit there." She may have been old and bent and tiny, but she was scary when she raised her voice. Her eyes went almost black and they flashed, so I obediently sank back onto the sofa. I eyed the remote, and was tempted to turn on the TV in an effort to distract her, but she anticipated it, grabbed it, and threw it across the room. Now she had all my attention and I sat there gaping at her with my mouth wide open. "Teenagers!" she complained loudly. She then closed the door and turned off all the lights. The blinds had already been shut, and the room was almost totally dark. I blinked for a while until my eyes adjusted, to see her shadowy form still standing in front of me. "I—I'm listening now, Puri," I said, surprised that my voice was trembling a little. I'd never asked where that name came from, but we had always called her that. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I eased it out and glanced down at the lit-up screen to see who was calling. "Give it to me," she demanded. "But. . . " "Now." I handed it to her with a shaky hand. I was beginning to worry about her sanity. Could all this magic talk and disciplinarian stuff herald the beginning of dementia? She went to the door, opened it a crack, and I head the crack as my cell phone hit the floor in the hallway. I cringed and fervently hoped she hadn't broken it. Mom would never believe Puri did it. I was starting to envision her being taken away in a strait jacket. "Now we talk. It is a tradition in our family for one woman to keep the magic alive. Your mother was never interested, but you—I see it in you." I swallowed hard. I wondered what was coming next. She crossed the room and took something off the bookshelf. I could just make out her shape as she came shuffling back towards me, the walker's wheels squeaking, and set whatever it was down on the coffee table in front of me. In the darkness it looked like a black blob. She did something to it, and stepped back. I blinked and did a double take. I could clearly see a sparkling crystal ball. It seemed to glow, and it captured the narrow moonbeams that slipped through the blinds, and reflected them a thousand times. It wasn't only visual. A strange magnetism that I can't explain seemed to pull me toward it. Puri, who was still standing there in front of me in the darkness said, "Yes? Now you understand." I didn't understand anything, but I couldn't take my eyes off the sparkling, shining orb, and waves of sweet, warm energy seemed to ripple through me. It was a feeling that seemed old. I don't know how a feeling can be old, but I never wanted it to end. "Reading the crystal ball is something that cannot be learned," Puri told me. "You have to have the magic in you." I didn't know anything about reading it. I only knew I couldn't take my eyes off it. Puri pushed the table closer to me and I stared down at the crystal ball. A feeling like warm ocean waves washed over me and as I watched, the ball began to change. The bright, clear facets became cloudy. It was as if a thick, swirling fog had enveloped it. My breathing elevated, and as I stared transfixed, a picture came into the ball. Or was it in my mind? I wasn't sure. I saw a baby. My mother was holding it and it was whimpering. I couldn’t move my gaze. "Enough." Puri broke the spell, and I blinked. When I looked again, it was just a crystal ball standing on the coffee table reflecting the moonlight. I stared up at my great grandmother's dark outline. "What was that? What just happened?" My voice sounded strange and hollow. "You saw into the future. That's your child. A girl. Your mother is the only person who will be able to stop her crying." I gasped. "How do you know that? It can't be." I was right the first time. She should be checked into an asylum—or wherever they keep crazy old people. "It is the truth." She covered the ball up with a velvet cloth, picked it up, and put it in the basket in the front of her walker. I wanted to tell her no. I wanted to keep it close, to see more. "The magic is strong, Cornelia. You cannot have too much of it all at once. The ball should be used to help others discover their future, not for your own life except when you believe there is great danger for you or a loved one." She trundled her walker back to the doorway to turn on the lights, retrieved the remote and handed it to me. I was still sitting in the same place on the sofa wondering what had just happened. I didn’t want to turn on the TV. I didn't care about my phone. I wanted the magic to last forever, but the lights had broken the spell. Did I really look into the future and see my own child? I was sure I hadn't imagined it. Maybe I did have some sort of psychic ability. Some might call it a sixth sense. Whatever. Every time we found ourselves alone in the house at night after that, my great grandmother taught me more magic—or whatever it was. Cranky teenager though I was, I actually found myself looking forward to those sessions. I was a little pissed when she told me never to share the information with anyone. That's like a prison sentence to a teenager. Lizzie and I shared everything. Something told me I should probably take her warning seriously, though, and I managed to keep it to myself. She probably had some magic way of finding out if I talked about it, and who knows what she would have done to me if I had divulged any of it to anyone. On top of that, I didn't want Lizzie to think I was in need of a shrink. Puri talked about astrology, and explained how the sun, stars, moon and planets influence our lives and even our behavior. I am a Scorpio, which she said means I am brave, strong and well-grounded, but I tend to be secretive. "Astrology can reveal one's life purpose, and one's ascension path," she said. "It can provide clarity on all and offers solutions to life's most difficult challenges. Through astrology you can learn to understand your inherent strengths and potentials in every aspect of your life." I was surprised at her in-depth knowledge of the subject. "It will also affect your love life," she said. "The only man who will be able to control you is another Scorpio." I wondered if I really wanted a man who could control me. What if I married a man from another star sign? Would I control him? It sounded okay to me. In the weeks to follow I learned to make smudge sticks from sage and sweet grasses and other herbs, and how to use them to purify the air and remove the negative energy. Puri didn't drive anymore, but she had a mind like an elephant, and described to me exactly where to find the herbs that would emit the special kind of smoke that would help my mind to drift, and what to look for. She described them so clearly that I had no problem finding them when I rode out there on my bike, armed with a shovel and plastic bags. She introduced me to tarot cards and taught me the significance of the ancient elements—water, fire, air and earth. I learned that the suit of Cups represented water and the emotions, Wands represented fire and told of people's passions and drive, Swords, ruled by air foretold of strife, and Pentacles embodied health, home, and physical realities, or earth. "The crystal ball," she said. "Is not for you. Only the cards." She didn't say much more about it and I planned to ask her to elaborate later, but then she set the crystal ball and the Tarot cards on the table in front of me and said, "Here. Your training is complete, Cornelia," and left the room. That night she passed away peacefully in her sleep. CHAPTER 2 I followed in my dad's footsteps and became a special agent in ICE – Immigration and Customs Enforcement, much to Mom's annoyance. She didn't like the danger aspect of it. I can't blame her, especially when Dad was killed by an illegal immigrant he was trying to apprehend three months before I graduated. It made me more determined. I know he's up there in Heaven looking down on me and approving. It wasn't long after I graduated that Special Agent John Nelson came into my life. Tall and blond, with intense gray eyes, I was attracted to him from the moment we first met. "I haven't seen you around here before," he said. How many times has that line been used? It was true though. "No, I'm new." His smile was doing things to me that had nothing to do with working. "Want to go out sometime?" he said matter-of-factly. I swallowed hard and nodded. My voice seemed to have deserted me. It turned out my common sense and good judgment had also done a disappearing act. We had dinner and a movie, and he wasn't shy about what he wanted from me. Forget putting an arm around my shoulders. His hand went straight to my butt as we headed for the back seat in the half-darkness, and a finger slipped under my very short mini skirt and through the side of my panties before I could sit down. Half of me wanted to slap him. Only half. The other half had been shockingly and urgently awakened. I don't remember anything about the movie, except that we left before it had even got to half time. We just made it to his apartment. After a whirlwind romance, we were married. When our daughter, Bryony was born, and Mom was the only one who was able to quiet her when she cried, I remembered the crystal ball and the Tarot cards. Puri had left them to me in her will, and I had never looked at them since that last night with her. They were carefully packed in a shoebox in the top shelf of my bedroom closet. Mom came to live in the same apartment complex as us soon afterwards, and I don't know what we would have done without her. The next four years, our lives were as normal as any other married couple. John and I had a good relationship, loved one another, and seldom argued. Mom cared for Bryony during the day, which enabled both of us to continue to pursue our careers. I had been trying to convince John that we needed more living space, and eventually he agreed. We bought a rambling home out into the country on four acres, with a pool. Our commute was a little further, but I was finally able to grow stuff. It was something I had been itching to do for a long time, and I've been complimented on my green thumb now that our garden is overflowing with flowering shrubs. We were used to having Mom close, and she agreed to move in with us. Life couldn't have been more perfect for me. Drug trafficking was a problem we dealt with daily in our work environment, and we made it our mission to locate and have drug dealers deported. In just a short time, one Mexican cartel rose in power above the others. La Serpiente de Coral—the Coral Snake Cartel was ruled by a particularly cruel drug lord, Jose-Marie Iglesias, aka el Serpiente, who would stop at nothing to make money, and to whom human life was meaningless. The coral snake connotation had been carefully chosen. In Mexico the coral snake is known as the 'twenty minute snake', or 'serpiente de veinte minutos', because if it bites you, that's all the time you have left to live. If Iglesias took you as his prisoner, he tortured you for twenty minutes and then you died. Everything changed when John made the decision to join Special Forces and go on a mission whose objective was to penetrate the internal operations of the Coral Snake Cartel, essentially as a spy. We had always gotten along, but this decision caused countless arguments, shouting matches, and bad feelings. "Are you crazy?" I asked him so many times. "I can't believe you're doing this to us. This is like a death wish. Suicide by drug lord. Please, John, don't do it. The kingpin of this cartel will stop at nothing and when he finds out what your intentions are he'll torture you and cut off your head. How do you think that will feel for me, and what about Bryony? She adores you and she needs a daddy to be here for her." "I've made up my mind, Neelie," he told me. "You're under estimating me. I won't get caught. I know exactly how I'll get close to him, and you'll see I'll succeed in this mission." He kissed me goodbye on a warm October morning and crossed the border in a remote desert region into Mexico. What is it about men and war or danger? He was as excited as a tick on a fat dog. There was no way I could contact him, nor he me, and I worried myself sick every day over what might happen to him. Anyone who has ever followed the news about the Mexican drug cartels will know that they are every bit as vicious and demented as ISIS and Al Qaeda. If someone gets in their way, they are beheaded, their bodies thrown into the streets as a warning to others who may be thinking about betraying them. I was over the moon when, almost eight months later, John was finally able to come home. My elation soon changed to despair. He wasn't the same man who had left me. He had always been fun-loving and playful, but that part of him was gone. Bryony was afraid of him with his big beard and long hair, and he took it personally and refused to acknowledge her for well over a week. Her crying seemed to irritate him beyond his tolerance. "Can't you shut that fucking kid up?" he would yell. This was not the man I had married. This man was quiet and morose and angry. I agonized over how I could change him back to the funny, loving caring man I had fallen in love with, but nothing I tried seemed to make any difference. He couldn't talk about the mission because of it being top secret, and anyhow, he said the less I knew the less reason anyone would have to question me. That was the first time I realized that his quest could endanger me and Bryony. I tried to make things as normal as possible, but it wasn't easy, and after ten days he left again. I asked him how much longer he would be gone, but he couldn’t give me a definitive answer. I got the idea he was enjoying being there more than being at home. I wasn't sure if I was happy or sad about it. On one hand, I was sure if he stayed he would eventually lose the anger and become the real John again, but on the other, it was a relief to have him gone, especially with Bryony being so fussy and upset all the time. We had only made love twice during those ten days. Although I needed sex physically, and missed having a man around me, it was the emotional aspect that took the greatest toll on me. I couldn't help wondering if I was a hindrance to him. Maybe he didn't have time in his life for me anymore. I carried on with my life as best I could. What other options did I have? I missed him terribly, and longed for him to come back, and I was determined that when he did, our lives would find a level of normalcy again. I hated the fact that Bryony was growing up without a dad. He was missing so much of her development, something I had always imagined we would share. Was I bitter? Yes. But I was willing to work hard and make my marriage work if only my husband would come home and be there for us. Thanksgiving was a particularly difficult time for me. It seemed that everyone else in the entire world spent it with their family members. I knew I was blessed to have Mom and Bryony, but I longed to have my whole family together again. On the third Thanksgiving after John had left, my brother Graeme came home from Angola in Africa where he'd been working at providing security on the oil rigs. He stayed a week, and helped to make the occasion more fun for Bryony, who loved the male company. After he left, I sank into a depression. I hadn't seen or heard from John for over a year, and didn't know if he was alive or dead. I forced myself to smile and act normal when I was with Mom and Bryony, but when I was alone, I couldn't stop myself from crying. It must have shown that I was feeling particularly down after Bryony's seventh birthday when one of my co-workers brought a tiny, mewing kitten into the office. "I found this little guy outside in the parking lot," he said as he handed it to me. Something, probably a maternal instinct, was triggered in me when I cradled the kitten in my arms. We went outside and searched for its mother, but I knew we wouldn't find her. That cat had been sent to heal me. She had long, silky fur, and was mostly gray with what looked like smudged eyeliner around her eyes. I called her Smudgie, and she and I developed a special spiritual bond. I found that whenever I held her, I couldn't help smiling. I don't know where I would be now if it wasn't for her. A few days later, I was standing on a stepladder reorganizing the contents on the top shelf of my closet, when I came across the box. CHAPTER 3 I LIFTED IT OUT, and my hands trembled a little when I set it down on my bed and opened the lid. I carefully un-wrapped the tissue paper to reveal the black velvet cover. I slipped it out of box and set it down on my nightstand. My heart hammered as I slid the velvet cover off it, and my breath caught in my throat when I looked at the crystal ball again after all those years. I draped my hands around it and thrilled at the pulsing vibration, almost as if it was alive. The past few days I had been experiencing a sort of dread, and I had an overwhelming feeling that something bad was going to happen. Puri said the crystal ball wasn't for me. If only I could understand what she meant. Why did she give it to me if that was the case? I dug in the box for the Tarot pack. I waited until late that night when Mom and Bryony were asleep. I locked my bedroom door and set out thirteen candles in a circle on the floor. Would I see something in the depths of the crystal ball? Did I dare read the Tarots and find out what was in store for us? Would I be able to bear the answer? My whole body was shaking by that time, and I almost dropped the pack. I tried to breathe slower and calm myself. I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard the knock. "Mommy, I wet the bed," Bryony cried. WHEN I GOT home from work the next day, I saw that the UPS driver had left a package just inside the gate, as she often did. I carried it under my arm and set it down on the kitchen counter, and forgot about it while I greeted Bryony and Mom, and enjoyed a cup of tea with them and listened to Bryony's excited chatter. Mom turned her attention to making dinner, and I bathed Bryony and we ate. I read a bedside story to Bryony and put her to bed. I remembered the package. Mom was still cleaning up in the kitchen when I sliced open the tape and lifted the lid. "Oh God, No!" I screamed and screamed and collapsed onto the floor, and then I threw up and heaved and heaved until I thought I was going to die, and I wished I could. Mom dropped everything and peered into the box, let out a yelp and ran for the bathroom. ### A week later a friend called me from Ohio. "Neelie, I got something from John in the mail. It came from Mexico. Is everything alright?" I was silent for a few moments. "Was it a package?" I asked, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. "Did you open it? Don't open it, Jay. It could be . . ." Nausea rushed through me and I felt like I was choking. "I didn't open it. It's a large brown envelope and it was addressed to you care of me. I got a separate note from John in a different envelope. He instructed me to get the package to you. Are you there?" I took a couple of deep breaths and managed to gasp, "Yes. Do you know what's in it?" "It feels like a lot of paper." I was holding onto the kitchen counter for support and my knees started to buckle. I found a chair and sank into it. "Are. . . Are you sure that's all it is?" "Yeah. Just paper—a long letter or something. Are you sure you're okay?" I forced my voice to sound as normal as possible. "Yeah. I'm fine thanks Jay. I just bumped my knee when I answered the phone," I lied. "So, I'll send it to you, okay? Is John alright?" I swallowed hard. "John passed a week ago. Can you hold onto that envelope for a while? I'll let you know when I'm ready for it." "Oh, God, Neelie. I'm so sorry. I didn’t know. What happened?" "KIA. He was working undercover. And for that reason, please don't tell anyone else you have that package. It could mean danger for me and Bryony." "Sure, Neelie. And I'm so sorry again. I'll wait for your instructions, and meantime, I'll keep it safely locked away." IT WAS ALMOST eleven months later when Mom and I were visiting my Aunt, that I drove across the state line to meet with Jay at a lonely gas station in Ohio. "John stressed that I must make you promise not to give it to anyone, no matter what," he said. "You must never let anyone else get a hold of this." My heart jumped when I took it from him and it was all I could do to keep a straight face and a steady voice to thank him. Back at Aunt Mary's farm in Pennsylvania, I slipped it under the mattress of the bed I was sleeping in. Later that night, I stared at John's neat handwriting for a while before I slipped my nail under the flap and opened the envelope. With trembling hands, I fingered the thick folded sheet of paper. I knew what it was. John had told me about it the last time he was home. It contained a set of blueprints showing the layout of Iglesias' villa, which was like an impenetrable fortress. The higher-ups in the DEA would kill to have this information. I didn't want to look at it, and a started to push the contents back into the envelope when my eye caught a note written on the back of the plans, 'Get the boy.' I had no idea what that meant, but there was no mistaking John's cursive handwriting. I placed the envelope in my suitcase and took it home, lost in thought about that note. Get the boy. I was halfway home when it hit me. I had heard a rumor that John had gotten close to the drug lord's wife—way too close, which is what had cost him his life. The rumor said John had had a child with her. I had dismissed it as trash talk. John would never betray me like that. Sending those blueprints was his last effort to communicate with me. He wanted me to get the boy—his child? The only problem is, how do I do that? Iglesias, kingpin of the la Serpiente de Coral Cartel—is the cruelest and most powerful of all the current Mexican drug lords. Did he think I would join Special Forces and try to get into the secret confines of the cartel, the way he did? Or should I just call the drug lord up and say, "I'd like to take custody of my husband's child." And am I now a target? Only time will tell. I never did consult the Tarot cards. #end# Coming soon -- Scorpio's Sting Contemporary Romantic Suspense Thriller Trish Jackson CHAPTER 1 DREW MCBAIN'S EYES OPENED WIDE, and before he could do anything to stop her, a smoking hot blonde filled his arms. "Watch it!" he said. "Oh no, I'm so sorry," she yelped. "You should look where you're going." He held onto her. She smelled good, and he had just groped a delectable, firm breast. "I didn't mean to . . ." She ran her tongue over her lower lip, and for a moment their eyes met. "I'm sorry, again." She held up the cell phone she had been checking. "My bad. I'm late for work." He released his hold on her, and watched her ass until she disappeared into the darkness. He blew out air, and headed into the Sand Swamp bar, where he had arranged to meet his friend, Dan Lemar for a beer after work. "You missed Neelie," Dan said. "I told you not to be late." Drew slid onto a stool. The bartender pushed an icy mug of beer over the glossy counter to him. He took a long swallow, and stared at the doorway. "She split already?" "Yup. Special Agent Cornelia Nelson. She's as hot as a summer revival. If I wasn't married . . ." Dan ran a hand through his short hair. "You might have even passed her on your way in." "I wasn't really looking at anyone except the blonde who smashed into me. There should be a law against texting and running. What are the odds that would be her? What's she doing in San Diego anyhow? Doesn't she live in Arizona?" She didn't act like she was in law enforcement, but it's possible that was her. "Yeah. She's working undercover here in San Diego on some secret assignment. We often have to work together as you know, and I invited her for a drink. As it turned out, she couldn't drink any alcohol because she had to go do whatever it is she does. If you'd been on time I would have introduced her to you. She had to leave in a hurry." "Hot blonde, about so high?" Drew held up his hand palm down. "Green eyes?" Dan nodded. "Yup. That was Neelie." "How long's she gonna be in town?" Dan grinned. "Let me guess. You want me to arrange another meeting." "If she's the blonde, sure. Can you?" He could still picture every detail of the unexpected incident. The way she looked, the way she smelled, and the delectable hormone-jerking feel of her breast in his hand. He could use more time with her. "I'll see what I can do. It'll depend on her work schedule. How are things going with that contraption you’re manufacturing? With all these kids being sent alone from Mexico across our borders we need it like yesterday. And if it can put a dent in the drug trade that's an added bonus.” Drew nodded. "The federal government is taking the VMF System seriously at last. I'm meeting with a Specialist from the Department of Homeland Security's Customs and Border Protection Office of Procurement in a couple of weeks." "I’ll never understand how the thing works." Dan took a long drink of his beer. "It's not easy to explain the VMF System because there are multiple elements to it. You have to understand quantum physics, and geophysics, not to mention UAV or drone technology." Drew signaled for more drinks and waited while the bartender poured two draft beers from the taps and slid them over the counter. "I mean, a virtual mine field. What is that? It sounds like sci-fi to me, or a case of bullshit baffles brains. Last I heard they were building a wall on our border—with bricks." Drew took a sip, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled at Dan's description. "The Virtual Mine Field is real. Anyone who steps within range of the sensors will get kicked back the way he came. In some places it’s a better option than a wall—places where the terrain is too rough or inaccessible for construction vehicles." "So let’s assume someone tries to walk across into the US. They won't get hurt?" "No. That's the big selling point. It may knock them over, but no normal, healthy person will get hurt." Dan scratched his head. "I don't see how our government could not want to try it. Your greatest problem is to convince them it really does what you say it does. It kind of sounds like those invisible fences they use to keep dogs inside a yard." "Yeah, but we don't have buried cables, and no-one has to use a collar or a receiver. Our transmitters work on the infrared light emission theory. They pick up body heat. We have our test range, and we've got the prototype working exactly the way it should now. We can demonstrate it to DHS there, but to be able to see its full potential, the government'll have to agree to a live test area along the Arizona or Texas border." "And why wouldn't someone just blow up the VMF's sensors—or transmitters, or whatever? Or shoot them?" "Because, my friend, they'll be buried on our side and encased in armor plating and here’s the kicker—this is where the drones come in. The VMF control stations will all have locaters, and the drones will be equipped with the decoders to locate and access them, not to mention Go-Pro-type cameras transmitting back to our ops room. And we— trained employees of a new branch of DrewMac—are gonna be monitoring the entire VMF System's operations. We’ll also be the only ones who can work on any part of the VMF if the components need repair." “Okay, so the drug cartels dig tunnels and go underground. The VMF won’t stop them if they’re in tunnels, and they’ve already proven that they can dig them—and engineer them. Look at the one they found near San Ysidro in San Diego, and the tunnel in Mexico that El Chapo escaped through.” Drew grinned. “The drones perform multiple tasks. They locate and receive messages from the underground VMF stations. They are also equipped with geophysical instruments that probe the ground, and send computerized feedback. If they find a non-conforming mass under the ground, maybe it’ll indicate humans, like the kids you’re talking about. Or, if there’s a space under the ground—like say a tunnel—they’ll also pick that up.” “You're underestimating the drug cartels' weaponry. La Serpiente Coral Cartel in particular—they're the strongest in this area. They'll shoot the drones down. They have access to RPG-7 missile launchers.” La Serpiente Coral Cartel. Where have I heard that name before? “No problem. The armor the drones have for protection will be as strong as the tiles the space shuttles had. No-one can shoot these VMF drones down with shoulder-fired missile—the type of missiles they would have. Maybe a nuclear bomb.” "And that's a very real possibility these days." Dan shuddered. "Sounds like you're gonna be running with the big dogs, but it’s still like sci-fi to me. I mean, a beam that can knock you over and a drone that finds stuff underground?" Dan shook his head and laughed. "Nobody knows about half the technology that's out there these days." Drew could still smell the blonde's perfume. It must have transferred onto his clothes. "Any chance you could invite the hot agent back here for a drink tomorrow night?"


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