Alien in the House (Katherine 'kitty' Katt) Page 2

  Our diplomatic day had been saved by one man. A man of taste, breeding, and the ability to get anything done, at any time. A man who was now our Embassy Concierge Majordomo and potentially the most competent man on the planet. A man I decided it was time to call.

  “Com on!”

  “What can I do for you, Chief?”

  “Walter, can you tell me where Pierre is? We need to ask vital questions only he can answer.”

  “Yes, Chief. Pierre told me to tell you that if you needed him, the event tonight will go on as planned, with a moment or two of silence for the two representatives who died last week, and a short, silent prayer for the representative in the hospital.”

  “He told you all that?”

  “Yes, Chief. Five minutes ago. He said you’d want to know. He also said he’d be in the Ballroom, and would appreciate you and Chief Martini stopping by. Oh, and Commander Reader is about to join us on premises. He says he’ll meet you at the Ballroom.”

  “Gotcha, Walt. Com off.”

  We looked at each other. “Is Pierre psychic, or part A-C?” Amy asked.

  “No on the A-C, don’t think so on the psychic,” Jeff replied.

  “He’s just really, really good. I thank God every day that James brought him out here to save our Embassy.”

  “Speaking of which, I guess Kitty and I are going to the Ballroom. You two want to join us?”

  Christopher shook his head. “We can’t. We have to do a . . . thing. Before the party.”

  “A thing? Dude, you’re normally more verbal than that.”

  “He’s trying to be discreet, but I don’t know why,” Amy said. “It’s taken forever, due to so many reasons, most of them highly classified, but my father’s estate is finally being settled. We need to meet with my lawyer.”

  “Why so, Ames? You’re his only child, and LaRue’s dead and she had no children. At least, I sincerely hope she had no children.” LaRue Demorte Gaultier had been Amy’s father’s mistress, and then his second wife. She’d ended up redefining the term “wicked stepmother” before getting shot by her own side during the big space showdown that I called Operation Destruction. “Who else could possibly be contesting the will or expecting to inherit?”

  “The Board of Directors for Gaultier Enterprises. They want to have full control of the company.” Amy had a look on her face I was familiar with—her “nothing’s gonna stop me” look. “But I’m not going to let that happen. I believe the legal papers will prove that I’m the majority stockholder. And that means I’ll be taking over Gaultier Enterprises.”

  CHAPTER 2

  “AMES, GO YOU!”

  “I know she can do it,” Christopher said, as he put his arm around Amy and hugged her. “But it’s going to take a lot of focus. And her being married to an alien isn’t helping. At all.” In a move that made me just a tad nervous, Christopher wasn’t glaring—he looked worried.

  “Whatever.” Amy hugged him back. “Being married into the A-C clan isn’t as much of a detriment to the Board as you think it is. Us not being evil psychos who want to destroy and rule the world? That’s a bigger issue for the Board.”

  “Fabulous. While you guys are tangling with them, don’t forget to eyeball who might be the next Bad Guy du Jour. ’Cause you know that no matter how many times we knock one down, another one’s always ready to take his or her place.”

  “We will do,” Amy said. “My money’s on Ansom Parker, Janelle Gardiner, or Quinton Cross. With my father gone, they’ve all been jockeying to become Chairman of the Board. But the corporation and his will were set up so that if he died, LaRue was the instant successor. With both of them missing and presumed dead, the corporation, the Board, and I have had to get my father and LaRue both declared legally dead, and we only have an interim Chairman.”

  “Yeah, the problem with our jobs and lives is that we do a lot of things we can’t tell anyone about.”

  Amy shrugged. “Better this than what we’d all go through having to explain how all these horrible people ‘disappeared.’”

  “As long as it doesn’t get discovered,” Christopher said, looking even more worried.

  Amy kissed his cheek. “As far as anyone knows, accidents have happened and we’re all very sad we haven’t been able to recover bodies.” She winked at me as they left, Christopher still looking concerned.

  “Think Amy will actually take over Gaultier Enterprises?” Jeff asked.

  “I think it’s really likely, yeah.”

  “Think anyone’s going to question the official causes of death on our long list of now-dead enemies?”

  “No idea. I’m just hoping they don’t question you, Christopher, or just about any other A-C.”

  “I know, I know. We can’t lie. It’s a good trait.”

  “In a husband, absolutely. In a politician or when being questioned by people who can’t know the truth? Maybe not as helpful.” I sighed. “I, however, have a more urgent problem. I need to finish wrapping Jamie’s presents, but Pierre needs us, and James is on his way.”

  Jeff grinned and kissed me. He was the best kisser in, by my estimate, the entire galaxy, and his kiss did to me what it always did—made me forget about anything else other than getting our clothes off.

  He ended our kiss and laughed. “No, baby, we don’t have time for me to make you that kind of happy. But give me a second, and I can solve a different problem.”

  That Jeff knew I was ready to go was based some on experience but mostly on the fact that he was the strongest empath in the galaxy. Therefore, I knew he was aware of my disappointment.

  Which quickly turned to joy, as he used hyperspeed to wrap the remainder of Jamie’s gifts. I had hyperspeed now, but I didn’t trust it for delicate stuff, and wrapping little girl gifts was definitely on the delicate side of the hyperspeed house.

  Jeff finished up and we hid the presents in a closet in one of the many rooms of our penthouse that we didn’t actually use. “You don’t mind that I finished the wrapping?” he asked as we headed for the door.

  “No. I wrapped half, you wrapped half. I’m glad you got to do some of that, even if it was quick.”

  He hugged me. “Me, too.”

  Since the Embassy went up seven floors and down several, ignoring the underground Secret Lab Level that led into the recently discovered Tunnels of Doom, most of us chose to save the energy and used the elevators to get up and down. Well, the human members of the Embassy staff did. For the A-Cs, all of whom had hyperspeed, stairs were almost always the faster option.

  Because it had been some time since we’d told Walter we’d be right down to the Ballroom, we didn’t use the elevator. Instead, we zipped down the stairs from the 7th floor to the 2nd.

  We reached the Ballroom. And stopped dead in our tracks. I couldn’t speak for Jeff, but I was stunned. Frankly, I couldn’t speak at all for a few long seconds.

  “Um . . . wow.”

  “Yeah.” Jeff cleared his throat. “What’s the proper thing to say at this moment?”

  “You’re asking me?”

  “You’re human.”

  “As if that matters for the current situation?” We were standing at one of the two entrances to the room. I took a quick look around. “Okay, Pierre’s not here. So, we tell each other, really fast, what we actually think, and then we come up with the right way to tell him what we really think.”

  “I really think there’s too much pink in here.”

  Couldn’t argue with Jeff’s sentiments. The ballroom of the American Centaurion Embassy was adorned in pink. And sparkles. And balloons. And that was just the ceiling. “Maybe Pierre thinks we’re hosting an off-site visit from the folks from Dancing with the Stars.”

  “Maybe he’s lost his mind.” Jeff didn’t sound like he was kidding.

  “It’s pretty,” I said lamely. It was, if you were so into the color pink that you wanted all other colors banished from the face of the Earth. No one I knew was that into the color pink. Well, Pierre was, appa
rently, but this was news to me.

  “Wow. Girlfriend . . . what’s going on?” Reader joined us. “I mean, I thought I knew what was going on. Now I’m not so sure.”

  “See?” Jeff said to me, as if I’d been the one who coordinated the ballroom’s decorations.

  “See what? I see a hell of a lot of pink.”

  “Me too,” Reader said. “What’s the occasion? I ask because the occasion can’t be the reason I’m here. I wasn’t invited to Pink Fest.”

  “It’s for our little princess’ first birthday party,” Pierre said as he zipped into the room. “I realize you’re all in shock from the sheer overwhelming feeling of being in a cotton candy factory, which is why I wanted you to see it now, but, trust me, it’s necessary.”

  “It is? Why?”

  “Jamie loves it,” Pierre said. “And she needs to love it. Her party is going to be televised, I’d like us all to recall.”

  “I’m still unhappy about that,” Jeff growled.

  Reader sighed. “Who isn’t? But, let’s be honest. If the way we keep everyone else in the world calm about the fact that there are a whole lot of aliens from the Alpha Centauri system living on Earth is to show how much like regular folks our Embassy personnel are, then we do it.”

  Jeff ran his hand through his hair. “I know, James. We had this argument months ago, and it made sense then, too. It’s just . . .” He looked around. “It’s just so damn pink.”

  “I have a bigger concern.” The three male heads all swiveled toward me. “We’re hosting a dinner party. Tonight. And, call me crazy, I thought we were hosting it in this room.”

  “You’re crazy,” Pierre said nicely. “We don’t host dignitaries in the ballroom unless we are dancing, Kitty darling. We host them in the formal dining room and attached parlors for appetizers, and then we’re all going to the Zoo for the actual dinner.”

  “Oh. Well. Then that’s alright. I guess.” I cleared my throat. “You know, Jamie’s birthday is on Christmas. And since we’re having her party on Christmas Day, I kind of thought, therefore, that the party would have a Christmas-y theme.”

  “Did you?” Pierre asked, as he fussed with some fake pink flowers that were marked as stand-ins for the real flowers that were to arrive on the actual day of the party. “I can’t imagine why.”

  “Christmas-time. That’s why.”

  “None of you celebrate Christmas officially, for a variety of religious reasons.” Pierre looked at all our expressions and heaved a sigh. “You’re allowed to be different, darlings. Your differences make you interesting to the general populace. The areas where you’re just the same as everyone else make you comfortable to them. We want to ensure that everyone continues to think you’re both comfortable and interesting.”

  “I feel like a reality star without the desperate desire for fifteen minutes of fame.”

  Pierre shrugged. “I’m sure you do. However, this week’s festivities are among the most important of any you’ve had since we were all exposed to the world as being just a trifle more special than the average.”

  “I’m cool with being better than the average bear. I’m not sure I’m excited about single-handedly making pink the new black.” I hadn’t wrapped her presents in a lot of pink. Now I wondered if that was going to end up being a Total Mommy Fail on my part.

  “I remind you that Jamie loves it and we will now leave it at that.” Pierre shooed us out. “I plan to have the ballroom closed off for tonight’s festivities, so no visiting dignitaries should be offended by the sheer beauty of the room.”

  “I feel so much better,” Jeff muttered. He heaved a sigh. “Okay, so what’s our game plan for tonight?”

  “Not spilling anything on anybody.”

  Reader chuckled. “That’s always a good choice, girlfriend. But we do need to be coordinated. This is a good chance to show how important we are politically while also showing that we don’t shove in our own agenda.”

  “We don’t have an agenda beyond ‘don’t make us go back to Alpha Four,’” Jeff pointed out.

  “And don’t make us the War Division,” I added.

  Reader heaved a sigh. “Yes. And we need to ensure that these things are understood at a level where the majority won’t ask for everyone to be exiled.”

  “You mean exiled again,” Jeff said. “But yeah, James, we get it.”

  “Good,” Pierre said. “Because based on your comments from only a few moments ago, I, for one, am not convinced you do indeed ‘get it.’”

  Before anyone could respond, the doorbell rang. The Embassy was large and the doorbell made an impressive sound that was piped through all the lower three floors.

  Pierre made the exasperation sound. “No one should be arriving yet. The party doesn’t start for at least another two hours.”

  He zipped off while the three of us exchanged a glance. “You think it’s just a delivery of some kind?” Reader asked. “Or someone dropping by to visit?”

  “Most of those who we want to see drop by via a gate. Or they call first.”

  Before Jeff could add in his two cents to this discussion, Walter’s voice came over the intercom. “Chiefs, Commander Reader, you’re needed downstairs.”

  CHAPTER 3

  “ROGER THAT, Walt. Leaving Planet Pink pronto. But, to keep the theme going, why don’t you pipe “Pink” by Aerosmith through the sound system.”

  “On it, Chief.” The melodious sounds of Steven, Joe, and the rest of my boys sailed into my ears. It made the sparkly pinkness seem more appropriate. At least to me.

  Jeff shook his head. “Only my girl. Shall we?”

  “Stairs or elevator?”

  “Stairs,” Reader said firmly. “For those of us who know the two of you well, being in an elevator with you makes us feel like we’re interrupting your sexy times.”

  “Hilarious. Accurate, but hilarious.” So Jeff and I still took every opportunity to do the deed, especially in elevators. So what? It was part of the foundation of a good marriage, at least in my opinion.

  Reader flashed the cover boy grin. “Besides, it’s only one flight down. If we were going up to the top, I’d ignore my delicate sensibilities and vote for the elevator.”

  Three years ago, if anyone had suggested to me that I’d be living in the American Centaurion Embassy as one of the Co-Head Diplomats, I’d have asked who American Centaurion was before laughing my head off.

  If they’d also mentioned that I’d be married to an alien from the Alpha Centauri system, along with having been a superbeing exterminator, then the Head of Airborne for Centaurion Division, or that I’d have saved the world multiple times, I’d have fallen on the floor, rolling around, begging them to stop being so funny.

  Of course, if they’d told me my parents and best guy friend from high school had masqueraded as normal while actually leading secret lives drenched in espionage, or that I’d also be besties with a former top international male model, I’d have probably had to go to the hospital from hilarity overload.

  We walked to the first floor with said former male model and went to the front door to find said best guy friend from high school, Charles Reynolds, head of the E-T Division for the C.I.A., chatting with Pierre.

  Chuckie wasn’t alone, however. Cliff Goodman, the current Head of Special Immigration Services reporting directly to the Secretary of Homeland Security, stood there with him. With Jeff and Reader here, we had a lot of power standing in our foyer.

  “Why are you both here so early?” Reader asked. He sounded mildly annoyed. This seemed to be the Standard Reaction Mode for whoever was the Head of Field for Centaurion Division when dealing with Chuckie.

  “Not that it isn’t great to see you both,” I added. Hey, I was the Co-Head Diplomat and I tried to practice my diplomatic skills whenever it was convenient and easy. “Unless you’re bringing news of doom and gloom, and then come back later, okay?” I also didn’t like to overdo the practicing.

  Chuckie grinned. “No, for once, not c
oming by to share how the world’s going to end tomorrow.”

  Good. I wouldn’t have to tell Walter to spin “Paint it Black” by the Rolling Stones. Though I had Stones songs on the playlist for tonight’s festivities because the British ambassador was supposed to be in attendance and I wanted to play more nicely than I had before and pretend I thought the Stones were sort of in the same league as Aerosmith, even though Aerosmith was the greatest and the Stones were merely good.

  Cliff nodded. “Under the circumstances, the Department wanted to ensure that you and we feel your Embassy is secure. I decided to come by with Chuck, as opposed to sending a team here.”

  “Thanks, we appreciate that,” Jeff said. “So, what do you need to see?”

  “Any common areas the guests will be in,” Cliff replied. “This is really just a formality, not a white glove test.”

  “Excuse me?” Jeff sounded confused, which wasn’t a surprise.

  “Earth saying. Your mother would understand it.” This I knew for fact. Happily, the A-C Operations team, who I called the Elves because I never, ever saw them perform their wondrous and magical duties, handled the cleaning of every A-C facility, including the Embassy. If the cleaning was left up to me, we’d be decorating in the finest of Washington, D.C. dust. I didn’t hate housekeeping, but we weren’t exactly best buds forever, either.

  Jeff grunted. “So, where do we start?”

  “Basement,” Cliff said. “Let’s do this quickly so you can all get back to prepping for the party tonight.”

  “You all go on ahead,” Chuckie said. “I need to talk to Kitty for a minute.”

  Jeff gave us both a searching look, shrugged, kissed my cheek, and he and the other men trotted off. This was the result of massive personal growth on Jeff’s part, much of which had happened because he’d finally caught on that Chuckie was no longer in love with me and was, in fact, in love with Naomi Gower, who was one of Jeff’s cousins.