Edison squinted one eye at Amy.  “You really mean it, don’t you?”

“I do.”

Edison opened the door wider and gestured for them to enter.  “Then be my guest.”

Ten minutes later, Amy had searched every room in the house except Jordan’s study.  She saved that room for last.  She walked in and turned on the light.  What she saw froze her to the spot.  Isabel bumped into her back.

“Whoa,” Isabel said, looking at the far wall.  “Is that what I think it is?”

Amy was stunned.  There was a huge, blue portrait of her face painted on the wall.  She was no expert on art, true, but even she had to admit that what the portrait lacked in variety of color, it made up for in feeling.

“It’s me,” Amy said.

Edison entered the room and looked at the painting.  “She painted that the day you stitched her up.  She had it bad for you, right from the start.  I tried to tell her that you would end up hurting her.  It’s the first time I ever wished I was wrong.”

Amy turned to Edison.  “I didn’t mean to hurt her.  It wasn’t even my fault.”

“Yeah, right.  Next thing you’re going to tell me you were the victim in all this?”

“That’s right,” Isabel said forcefully, stepping toe to toe with Edison.  “Why don’t you hear what she has to say before you go making judgments?”

Edison opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it and closed her mouth.  She looked at the wall, studying Amy’s blue likeness.  “Okay.  I’ll hear what she has to say.”  She stepped around Isabel and looked at Amy.  “Tell me your side of the story.”

“That man is… his name is Chad.  He’s a doctor at the hospital.  Chad is… living in Chad-World.  We went out once,” Amy said.  “Only once.”

Edison put her hands on her hips and said, “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to the story?”

Amy sighed.  She might as well come clean.  “There is more.”  She sat down on the couch and said, “I got really drunk.  I had sex with him.  He threw the condom on the floor.  I got up to go to the bathroom, slipped on it and knocked myself unconscious.  He took me to the emergency room and to save face I told them I slipped on a banana peel.  It turned into this big joke at the hospital.  They all called me Banana Amy.  I’ve hated Chad ever since.  However, my hatred has turned into a personal challenge for him.  He won’t leave me alone.”

Edison broke into loud guffaws.  She slapped her leg and chortled, “Banana Amy?  For real?”

It wasn’t the reaction Amy had expected at all.  Appalled and disgusted, yes.  Laughing and mirthful, no.

Edison dropped onto the couch beside her, wheezing from laughter.  “A banana peel?  That’s the best you could come up with?”  She laughed herself out while Amy and Isabel only stared at her.  Finally, Edison collected herself and wiped her eyes with the corner of her T-shirt.  “Okay, well, so how did you end up being engaged to the guy?”

“Are you sure I can’t talk to Jordan?  This is so embarrassing.  I don’t want to do it twice,” Amy said.

“Really and truly, she’s not here.  Irma whisked her off to some KGB safe house so she could get away from you and get her head screwed back on straight.  Tell me the rest of the story.”

Amy told her about the romantic pizza lunch, the lobster, the stalking, everything.

“Really, he had his finger bit off by a lobster?” Edison said.

Amy and Isabel nodded their heads in unison.

“You expect Jordan to believe all that?” Edison said.

Isabel said, “It’s the truth!”

Amy buried her face in her hands, hiccupped three times then began to sob.  Isabel pulled her into her arms, held her tightly and patted her back like she was burping a baby.  “There, there,” she cooed.  Isabel shot Edison a look that said, “Now look what you’ve done.”

Amy blubbered through her tears and Isabel’s bosom, “Chad’s a creep and I hate him.  And now the love of my life thinks I’m a liar and a philanderer.”

“Philanderer wasn’t the exact word she used,” Edison said.

Amy sobbed louder.

“Do something,” Isabel mouthed silently to Edison.

 “Okay, okay,” Edison said, rising to her feet and pacing.  “We can fix this.”

“We can?” Amy whined, looking over Isabel’s shoulder.  “How?”

Edison stopped pacing, ran her thumbnail along her lower lip and looked thoughtful.  “We need to do some reconnaissance.  Are you up for it?”

“Like in a spy movie?” Isabel asked excitedly.

“Exactly,” Edison said.

“Like in a James Bond spy movie?” Isabel asked with her eyes glowing brighter.

“Exactly like that,” Edison said.  “I get to be James Bond, of course.”

“And I’ll be Pussy Galore,” Isabel said, jumping to her feet.

Amy dried her tears and looked from one woman to the other.  There was something happening between Edison and Isabel that much was evident.  It was like an electrical charge was shooting from their eyes and fingertips to the other’s eyes and fingertips.  Well, okay, that sounded too science-fiction-y.  It was more like an unseen magnetic force was pulling them toward each other.

Amy definitely felt like the third wheel in their James Bond movie.  “Who do I get to be?” she said softly.

“Oh, you’re Mrs. Moneypenny,” Isabel said.

Amy frowned.  She had hoped she would get to be Octopussy.

“What are we going to recon?” Isabel asked Edison.

“Our suspect.  Chad, of course.  If we can find proof of Amy’s story, we’ll present it to Jordan and she’ll have to believe her.”  Edison rubbed her palms together.  It was obvious she lived for moments such as these.  “Come up to my lab.  I need to gather up my gear and you all need some black clothes.”

“We’re going on a spy mission, we’re going on a spy mission,” Isabel chanted in a singsong voice, skipping out the door behind Edison.

“Some muscle you are,” Amy muttered under her breath.  She slowly followed behind them, shaking her head.  She’d never seen Isabel quite so animated.  Is that what love looked like? If so, it was pretty ridiculous.


The Corndog

Edison led Amy and Isabel up to her lab on the third floor.  As they entered the space, Amy knew why Jordan hadn’t wanted her to see it.  It was a mélange of every science fiction movie she had ever seen – makeshift tables, tubes, wires, computer motherboards, tools, and diagrams taped to the walls.  There was even a rolling chalkboard with algorithms scrawled all over it.  It was, without a doubt, the lair of a mad scientist.

“Watch where you walk,” Edison advised, high-stepping over one of several electrical cords snaking across the floor.

“What is this place?” Isabel asked, obviously impressed.

“My lab.  I’m an inventor, you know.  That’s why they call me Edison.”

“What’s your real name?” Isabel asked.

Edison stopped rummaging through boxes and looked at her.  “You’ll laugh.”

“No, I won’t.”

Edison said softly, “Alma.”

“Hmmm…” Isabel intoned.  “Edison fits you better.”

“I know, right.”  Edison turned and went back to rummaging.

Amy took that opportunity to swat Isabel in the arm.  Isabel mouthed silently, “Why’d you do that?”  Amy mouthed back, “Are you flirting with her?”  Isabel shrugged and mouthed, “What’s it to you?”  Amy rolled her eyes.

“Now where did I put those binoculars?” Edison asked herself.

Isabel picked her way around the room, staring at objects, tilting her head this way and that, oohing and ahhing.  Suddenly, she stopped, her mouth dropped open and she pointed a finger at a set of cylindrical objects displayed on a shelf.  “Is that a Corndog?” she gasped.

Edison turned.  “Sure is,” she said proudly.

“Oh my God,” Isabel intoned.  She took her time looking at the rest of the objects.  “And that’s a Plunger!  And a Muffin Mucker!”

“I invented those,” Edison said, puffing out her chest.

“You’re kidding me,” Isabel said.  She was obviously in awe.  Or maybe in lust.  Either way, her face was red and her breath came in excited pants.

Amy interrupted, “Are those what I think they are?”

Isabel nodded.  “They’re only the best dildos in the entire history of dildos.”

“Wow,” Amy said because she wasn’t sure how a person was supposed to respond to such news.  “The only time I’ve ever seen a dildo up close and personal was when I interned in the emergency room and had to remove it from a man’s anal cavity when his sphincter muscles seized up.”

“How’d you get it out?” Edison asked, ever curious about such things.

“I tickled him,” Amy said.  “He laughed and it shot out his butt.”

“Genius,” Edison said.

“Thank you.”

“Okay,” Edison said, clapping her hands in a “let’s get back to work” manner.  She looked at Amy, “What kind of building does Chad live in?  Is it a house, apartment, condo?  Is it on the first floor or second floor and does it have an alley or parking lot or both?”

“He lives in second story apartment building and there’s a small parking lot and an alley.  I think.”

“You think?”

 “I was drunk and then unconscious, remember?”

“Okay,” Edison said.  She pulled stuff out and tossed it on the bed, saying, “I’ll need this and this and this…”

“What can I do?” Isabel asked.

 “Go look in those tubs over there and find some black clothes that fit the both of you.  I have all sizes and there should be a spray bottle of Febreeze to freshen them up a bit,” Edison said, as she rooted around in one of the plastic bins located on a shelving unit filled with tons of other plastic bins.

Amy and Isabel dug through the tubs.  Amy felt like her mother dumpster diving.  Maybe this was how she got her start.

The tubs held not only black clothing but theatrical props as well.  There were beards and hats and sunglasses and a Sarah Palin mask that scared her so bad when she pulled it out that she almost screamed.

They found a black cape for Amy and a black hoodie and commando pants for Isabel.  Amy tried on the cape, spinning and whooshing it through the air.  It made her feel like Lord Byron going on a romantic mission to clear her name and reclaim her lover.  And when she held it over her head it made her feel invisible like Harry Potter when he was in sneaky-pants mode.

Edison popped up from her desk with a remote control helicopter to which she was attaching what appeared to be a set of binoculars with duct tape.

“What is that?” Amy said.

“It’s my remote recording binoculars with aerial capabilities.”

“That’s what I thought it was,” Isabel said smugly.

Amy rolled her eyes at Isabel.  Does flirting have no limits?  “I don’t get it,” Amy said.  “Are you going to fly the toy helicopter to spy on him like through a window or something?”

“Bingo!” Edison said.  “And if that doesn’t work we can always break in.”

“What!” Amy said, recoiling.

“Only as a last resort,” Edison assured her.

“I don’t really understand what we’re looking for,” Amy said.

“We want to know how Chad ticks.  He’s got psycho-stalker written all over him.  Let’s check out his digs and see what we can find.  We get some proof that he’s a wacko and Jordan will believe your story.  Because without any proof she’s still going to think you played her no matter what you say,” Edison said.

Amy groaned.  She knew Edison was right.

“Okay, put your big girl panties on and let’s get a move on,” Edison said.

They loaded the helicopter with its attached binocular load and a scope thing and a box of sci-fi what-nots, as Amy thought of them, and an enormous toolbox into Edison’s VW bug.  Amy rode in the back seat because Isabel had called shotgun.  “Why don’t we put some of this in the trunk?” Amy asked as she sat on something hard, rubbery and pokey.  It turned out that sitting on it wasn’t near as much fun as it sounded.

“Trunk’s full.”

Amy figured as much.

“Okay what’s his address?” Edison said.

Amy wasn’t exactly sure.  “I know it was on the corner of Pine Street and another tree name street.”

Edison and Isabel stared at her like she was a hopeless excuse for a spy.  Which of course, she was.  Amy shrugged apologetically.  “All trees look alike to me.”

Edison harrumphed and then pulled out a super small computer looking thing.  “What’s his full name?”

Amy did know that at least.  “Chad Earl Dorring.”

Edison and Isabel made yucky faces.  Edison plugged the name in and immediately was rewarded with a phone number.  Amy didn’t know if it was his or not.  “You really don’t hang out with this guy do you?” Edison said.

“I already told you that.”

“Has he ever called you?”