Universal Alien Read online

  “I’ll put it up in a banana clip, if you have those here. That should hide any differences.”

  “We do,” Charles said. “You two take care of that, I’ll stall.” He raced off before I could say that if I was going to be undressing in front of a man, he was the man I was going to be far more comfortable with.

  “It’ll be fine,” Martini said, as he took my hand. “I won’t look. Though I’ve seen everything you have, since you’re, you know, the same. In that sense. I think, anyway.”

  “Let’s just stick with you not looking, Mister Smooth.” We went to an elevator this time. And once again, Martini seemed uncomfortable and sad. “Why are you unhappy in elevators?”

  Now he looked embarrassed. “Ah, we, uh . . .”

  “Oh, wow, you guys do it in the elevator?” It had been a long time since Charles and I were able to be that adventuresome. “It’s got to be better than an airplane bathroom.” Though those were damned fun times, and I had extremely fond memories of a few airplane bathrooms. I was fairly sure Charlie had been conceived in one.

  Martini still looked embarrassed, but he grinned, too. “We like to find as many places as possible to, ah, ensure the relationship is still solid.”

  The doors opened and we got out. “Works for me. And, wow, is this place really an embassy, or is it just a gigantic luxury hotel?”

  “I guess it’s a little of both. Does it bother you?”

  “Not really. It’s not like our houses are miniscule, and Charles ensures we always have the very best. We’re not ostentatious, but we have three kids and family and friends living with us—we need a lot of space.”

  “Interesting. My Kitty can barely handle it, and she’s been living here for three years.”

  Considered this as we entered a penthouse apartment that, frankly, was probably as large as my home in D.C. “Charles made his first millions right before we got married. He made the next ones right after in the stock market. We’re careful with our money, but we have a lot, so maybe it’s just that I’m used to this by now, and she hasn’t had the same time to adapt.”

  “Sounds about right. Here’s our closet. As a race, we like formality and the colors black and white. You, well, my you comments about that all the time. The standard outfits for women—”

  “Are what I saw all the Beauty Queens wearing, right? White oxford shirt, black slimskirt, black pumps. The clothes are all Armani. In fact, that’s the only designer I’ve seen on anyone since I woke up here. Did Armani win the Fashion Wars and those lines are all that’s left?”

  “No, all the other designers are around, at least we have a lot. We just prefer the way Armani looks. Again as a race. In many things we’re extremely conformist.”

  “Okay. What if they don’t fit me?”

  “They will. Including your underwear. Our Operations Team will make sure of it.”

  Looked around. “I don’t see anyone.”

  “You won’t. They’re very discreet. But, trust me, if you need something that’s not in here, just ask for it and it’ll show up. Fast. And put your clothes into the hamper—they’ll be cleaned and back waiting for you shortly.”

  “Okey dokey. Um . . .”

  He grinned. “I’ll leave you alone here. I’m going to leave the bedroom door ajar, because the soundproofing is excellent, and if you need me, I don’t want you calling and my not hearing you. And yes, I’ll probably feel it if you’re in trouble, but I’d prefer to err on the side of over-caution.”

  “Works for me. And thanks.” Leaned up and kissed his cheek again. “I really appreciate how you’re acting with me.”

  He hugged me gently, but didn’t say anything. The hug wasn’t a long one, and then Martini left the closet and the bedroom.

  I got undressed and dumped my clothes into the hamper. Grabbed a robe and went to the bedroom door. “Do you think I have time to shower?”

  “Honestly, no. But you’re fine.”

  “You guys really can’t lie at all, can you?” Trotted into the bathroom and did as fast a sponge bath as I could manage. Combed out my hair and put it into a ponytail, then into a banana clip. That way, if I had to lose the clip for some reason, my hair would be back and hopefully no one would notice that it was different from my CA’s.

  Considered putting on makeup to hide the bruise, but it was our excuse for everything, so figured I shouldn’t bother.

  As I left the bathroom I noticed several gigantic cat trees, sort of arranged like their own condominium block against one wall. There were no animals on them, but they could have held a couple dozen cats. There were four dog beds against the opposite wall. No dogs in evidence, but four big ones lived here, if I went by what I was seeing.

  Back to the closet. Sure enough, there was underwear waiting for me. I knew this because it was sitting neatly on top of the dresser and hadn’t been there before. “Uh, thank you, whoever you are. Thank you very much.”

  Underwear on, I found the set of clothes that were for me, because they were hanging alone, with shoes under them, and I knew they hadn’t been like this a few minutes ago.

  The outfit was nice and quite flattering, and the pumps were comfortable, so one thing was going right. There was a purse sitting there—looked like the same purse they’d tried to hand me at the hospital. Had no idea where that had gotten to, but when I looked inside, it sure looked like the same purse. There were no other purses in the closet. So either my CA just asked the Operations Team for a new bag every time she wanted a change, or she was a one-purse girl. I’d been a one-purse girl, before I’d married Charles. Decided this was, therefore, my purse for this universe, slung it over my shoulder, and went out to Martini.

  “Will I pass muster?”

  His eyes went wide and he nodded slowly. “Yeah. You look . . . perfect.”

  Felt my cheeks get hot. “Thanks.” This was not good. I shouldn’t be feeling all fluttery around Martini. Then again, maybe it was a good thing and would let us fake out everyone we had to.

  He stood up and took my hand. “Let me take the lead on everything downstairs. You just stand there and look sexy and I’m sure we’ll get through it.” He squeezed my hand. “Not that I’m telling you not to add in when you think you should. Then again, I’ve never needed to tell you that.”

  Now was definitely not the time to mess up him thinking of me as his Kitty. “You got it.”

  He kissed my cheek, and we headed for the elevator. This time, he put his arm around me while we waited. Figured he was nervous about my fooling the people we were about to meet with. Put my arm around his waist.

  “The President is Vincent Armstrong, you call him Vince. The Secretary of State is Monica Strauss, and you call her Monica. The Secretary of Defense is Fritz Hochberg. We call him Fritz when things are serious, but when we’re relaxed it’s Fritzy.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. They’re not our enemies but this screwup should mean they’re not happy with us. The Homeland Security guy is Cliff Goodman, he’s one of Chuck’s best friends. The guy from the F.B.I. is Evander Horn. He’s black, and has burns over most of his body, but you can’t see them when he’s in a suit. Regardless of the situation, you call him Vander.”

  “Even if I’m being formal?”

  Martini chuckled as the elevator doors opened and we got in. We kept our arms around each other and he seemed more relaxed in here now. “Depends on the situation. When you’re making a ‘we’re going to kick your butts’ statement, you tend to go with titles and extreme formality. Hoping we won’t have to deal with that today.”

  “Me too.”

  “Cliff and Vander are our friends, so expect them to be supportive, but they still have jobs to do and we’ve made those jobs harder today. You have a full Secret Service detail, two women, four men, and you’re close to them. Worry about remembering the women’s names—you can use the co
ncussion excuse for the men, and we’ll use it for anything where you don’t know who someone is or what to say to them. The blonde is Evalyne, you call her Ev, and she’s in charge of the detail. The brunette is Phoebe, you call her Pheebs. They give us all codenames. I’m Cosmos, you’re Cyclone, Jamie is Cutie-Pie, and Chuck is Playboy.”

  “Really.”

  Martini chuckled and hugged me. “Really. But that’s just his cover.”

  “Like Batman.”

  “Yeah, that’s what you always call him.”

  “What do I call you?”

  He grinned. “Superman.”

  “Well, that seems to fit.” We left the elevator still holding onto each other. Steeled myself, because we were going to see Charles in a couple of seconds, and I couldn’t look guilty or jerk away from Martini.

  There were men and women stationed about, all in suits, but none of them were Armani. They all looked really official. “Secret Service,” Martini murmured as he nuzzled my ear. Realized that us being the poster couple for Public Displays of Affection was great, because he could slip me clues and just look normally lovey-dovey. “Not yours. Assume yours are waiting for us with the President.”

  Peter met us in the hallway and led us to the room where everyone was. “They look rather grim,” he said quietly.

  “Thanks for the warning,” Martini said. “It’s not a surprise.”

  We entered a decent sized parlor, but it was packed with people. Some were clearly Secret Service—they were lined against the walls. Two of the women made eye contact with me and gave me tiny nods. Assumed these were Evalyne and Phoebe and gave them fast smiles back.

  The people who were here to meet with us were with Charles and Singh, who was back from whatever he’d been doing with my mother. One of the visitors was tall and distinguished—and he looked like a career politician. Based on how the room was focused around him, figured this was President Armstrong.

  There was an older man who was clearly military, or former military, by his bearing. Took a wild one and assumed this was Hochberg. The woman with them was wearing the typical power suit female politicians favored. She looked to be in her late forties and was attractive in a steely way. Had to guess this was Strauss.

  There was a handsome, medium-skinned black man who looked about Richard’s age and was built like Richard, Martini, and Paul. He had close-cropped hair and sparkling brown eyes. He shot us a look that seemed supportive, so I assumed this was Vander.

  He was next to a guy about Charles’ age who gave me an encouraging smile. Assumed this was Goodman. Now that I saw him in person, the name registered. I knew this man in my own universe.

  Before I could marvel at the differences between my reality and this one, the President nodded to us. “Bad business today, kids.”

  “Accidents happen,” Martini said. No one looked like this was close to being a good enough answer.

  “I’m so sorry—” I started, but the President cut me off.

  “You have to go to Australia, Jeff,” Armstrong said. “Right away. And if Kitty’s up to it, she needs to go, too.”

  CHAPTER 31

  “WHAT? WHY?” Martini sounded stressed. Couldn’t blame him.

  “Why? Are you kidding?” Armstrong shook his head. “Don’t act naïve. I realize Kitty got hurt. Right now, that’s the only thing that’s keeping the Aussies from rounding up their A-Cs and shipping them off to us. And if they do that, you know what happens.”

  Tried hard to keep my mouth shut, but I couldn’t stop myself. “I’m Jewish, so yes, we do. And I’m so glad that my cracking my head open was in everyone’s best interests. Oh, and I have a concussion and feel like I’ve been in a car crash, but, seriously, don’t bother to ask how I’m feeling. Anyone at all.”

  “You flipped off the Prime Minister and you tossed your cup of coffee at him,” Strauss said. Decided I didn’t like her.

  “Not on purpose. Any more than Jeff spilled more coffee on him and Margie on purpose.” Martini squeezed me. Remembered that this Kitty didn’t know the PM’s wife.

  “We know that,” Armstrong said. “And, I’m sorry, Kitty. You weren’t representing well at the event to begin with. And then with everything else that happened . . .”

  “You mean when I fell onto concrete and hit my head?”

  “Yes, and we’re sorry you got hurt,” Hochberg said, showing at least some ability to fake caring. “But you were insulting the Australians the entire time.”

  “Cricket’s a boring sport for those who aren’t into it,” Vander said, earning my instant loyalty, even though I, personally, liked the sport. But even I could admit it wasn’t as exciting as any form of football. “Golf’s boring to watch too, unless you’re into it. I realize that Kitty was bored. From what I’ve heard, half of the Australian people find cricket to be boring. Choosing to create an international incident over this screams ‘easy opportunity’ much more than real insult.”

  “It was the combination of events,” Strauss said. “My office has been deluged.”

  “So sorry to put you out and force you to do your job and all, but, my God, how juvenile are all of you people? This is something that I’m sure can be resolved, easily, by simply apologizing in whatever stately way we’re required to.”

  “Exactly!” Armstrong beamed and I got the feeling I’d just locked us into doing whatever he wanted. “Which is why you and Jeff need to get on a plane to Australia immediately. Bring Jamie, too. I think the whole family representing will be better. I hear Margie likes kids.”

  “She has three, I’d think she’s fond of them, yeah.”

  “Vince, I’m not against our going,” Martini said. “But why right away?”

  “Because, just like Vander said, we think this is being used as an excuse,” Goodman answered. “American Centaurion has a lot of enemies and they’re all jumping at the chance to show how horrible all aliens are.”

  “I’ll be going with you,” Strauss said, ensuring that I was going to hate this trip. “To ensure that the two of you actually manage to stay on script.”

  That did it. I’d dealt with people treating Charles like dirt when he was so much smarter and more successful than they were. I wasn’t going to allow anyone to do the same to Martini, not if I was his wife in this universe. I pulled away from him and got right up into this woman’s face. “You will rephrase that or you will get out of my house. Forever.”

  Strauss looked shocked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Yes, you’d better, only in a believable fashion. I don’t care how important you think you are, but the man in this room who actually is a heartbeat away from the Presidency is my husband. Therefore, you will speak to him, and to me, and to our friends and family, with respect or you will get your happy ass out of my home or I will set the dogs on you. Is that clear?” There were four dog beds. That meant there were real dogs around somewhere, I hoped.

  The room had gone incredibly still. It was clear everyone was waiting for Strauss’ reply. I was holding eye contact with her—and though she was a worthy opponent, there was no way she was going to win. We played the Staredown Game at home for fun. Sure, Charles usually won, but not always. No one other than him or my mother had ever been able to beat me and this woman wasn’t going to make it into that hallowed echelon.

  Sure enough, she broke first. “I’m very sorry . . . Kitty. And Jeff. I didn’t mean to come off as insulting or to indicate that I felt my position was higher than that of the Vice President. I honestly wasn’t prepared to have to deal with fallout from this event—normally, you two are always on top of your game.”

  Based on everyone’s reactions at the hospital when they’d thought I was “their” Kitty, I found this last one hard to believe. However, I knew when to take the apology and move on. “Thank you, Monica. It’s been a very difficult day for everyone.”

  I went back to Marti
ni. The two female Secret Service agents shot little “atta girl” signs to me. Decided they were joining Vander in my Instant Loyalty section.

  “I really think we need to wait at least a day,” Martini said. “Just to be sure that Kitty’s feeling alright.”

  Realized he was hoping my CA and I would switch places before a trip to Oz. But I couldn’t believe I’d been sent here just to hang around. No, if I was here, I was supposed to do something—and saving the A-C’s diplomatic day seemed like it was probably my cosmic job.

  “I’d like the time so that we can determine the right things to do and say in order to apologize. Us stampeding to Canberra in order to beg forgiveness without a good plan—a plan that clearly needs to involve me in a big way, I must add—seems remarkably stupid. Along the lines of making someone who is not a trained actress pretend to love a sport they hate and then being shocked, shocked I say, when she doesn’t succeed. I ask again, just how juvenile are all you people?”

  Everyone in the room, including all the Secret Service agents, stared at me. “Ah, what Kitty means—” Singh started.

  The President put up his hand. “What Kitty’s saying is that we’re acting like a bunch of immature assholes. And she’s right. And, by the way, I realize I haven’t really said this properly. Elaine and I are both sorry you were hurt, and I’m relieved to know you’ve bounced back as you always seem to. Elaine will be relieved, too.”

  Didn’t take genius to figure that Elaine was the First Lady. “Thank you. Yes, we’ll go to Australia. No, we are not running off like crazed wolverines just for the thrill of it all. We will, in all haste, determine what we feel is the best way to apologize, run it by everyone in the room, and then, once we’re confident we have a Plan A, B, C, and D in place, then we will head off to Australia to make things right.”

  “Cliff and I will work with you on the planning,” Vander said quickly. Armstrong and Hochberg nodded, Strauss looked relieved. Really hated her. Wondered if my CA could stand her or not. Decided it didn’t matter right now, but I was betting on no.