Rachel Dyken - The Dare

Grandma snorted.

"But get us out of here first."

"Say the magic words."

"Uh, please?" I nudged Jace out of his paralyzed state.

"Not those words."

I closed my eyes and allowed visions of my calm and sterile office to bring back the peace into my body. That didn't work., I needed to think about Vampire Diaries.

Damon Salvatore. Damon Salvatore. Damon Salvatore. And happy place found!

"I can't read minds. What words do you want me to say?"

Grandma chuckled. "Why, thank you, of course!"

"For?"

"How was he?" She giggled like a school girl. "Men with power seem to have a special type of—"

"Thank you!" I all but shouted. "Now get us out of here."

"Roger."

The phone went dead.

I looked to Jace for help, but he seemed to be fighting a losing battle with his tie as he tried to pull it from his neck.

"Stop." I swatted his hands away. "You're going to hang yourself if you keep doing that."

He shrugged.

"What?" I loosened the tie. "No snappy retort?"

"Not feeling snappy," he said dryly.

I slapped him. I never said I was good with emotions.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Singing Katy Perry." I grinned, "Now snap to it, Mr. Senator. We've gotta make it out of this hotel without that skinny bitch reporting it on the evening news."

"Grandma?"

"The reporter."

"You understand my confusion," he added, just as someone knocked on the door. "Stay here."

"It feels like a bad movie," I whispered to myself as I chewed the nail polish off my thumb.

"Shit." Jace looked through the peephole and then said shit about five more times before slowly opening the door.

Why was he so upset? Why the hell would…

"Aw, shit." I repeated. Because there really wasn't any other word that existed in the English language that would fit as well.

So I repeated it again.

As did Jace.

Grandma shrugged and pulled off her sunglasses. "Let the fun begin!"

"Yes. I'm secure in my masculinity, and for the last time, dogs cannot speak."

"That's what Jake said."

"Jake?"

Grandma nodded. "He doubted me once. But never again."

The FBI agent was silent for a moment then asked, "Did you kidnap him too?"

"No, but I did almost kill him. I had the shovel and everything."

Coffee spewed out of the agent's mouth. "Murder?"

"Luckily, when I petitioned God, He said He'd take care of it. Want to know what He said about you?"

Jace

Memories of my gold-digging fiancée, Kerry. Dead memories, ones I'd killed off with a bottle of Jack — threatened to surface. She'd only used me for my position, and when I found out about her inability to keep her clothes on, she'd gone to the news and turned the story on me.

My reputation almost hadn't survived. And my heart hadn't ever been the same. My tie felt too tight, the room too small. Luckily, Beth kept me from hanging myself, and for a moment I enjoyed it.

The feel of her hands on mine.

The promise that someone actually cared more about me than my pocketbook or ability to buy them things.

But mostly, the concern that etched around her face when she was helping me. People weren't usually concerned with my feelings. I was a politician; meaning I didn't have feelings, just opinions that only forty percent of the population in Oregon actually agreed with.

Maybe I was projecting past memories onto her present person. Who knows what type of person she was now? The girl from high school could be long gone, for all I knew. Hell, I wasn't the same person anymore, and I partially blamed her for it. Beth had made me believe in magic, until the accident changed it all.

Grandma put her hands on her hips. "Well, what are you two standing there for? We have to get out of here!" She threw two duffel bags at us and stomped into the room. "Now change."

"Change?" Beth and I said in unison.

Grandma reached for the box of half-eaten cookies and pulled one out, closing her eyes as she chewed. Several crumbs landed on her leopard scarf, acting like a tray underneath her mouth.

"Well?" Grandma opened her eyes and stared us both down. I wanted to duck behind Beth and or make a run for it, but something kept me in place — maybe curiosity, or possibly desperation. Whatever it was, it was annoying as hell.

"May I ask why you're wearing…" Beth swallowed, "that?"

"Oh, this little thing?" Grandma chuckled then put up a hand and meowed. "I'm a cat."

"We noticed." I coughed to hide my laugh. "Aren't we supposed to be incognito, though?"

"Cats have nine lives."

"Thank you, Wikipedia." Beth smiled tensely.

"People love cats, and people love me. It's really the perfect plan. I'm famous too, you know. They won't even notice you leaving through the back door once I walk into the lobby. I'm donating a horrendous amount of money to the Portland Zoo. They'll think it's a publicity stunt and well… now I don't have to do my own press conference."

I was silent. Thinking. Wondering if she was insane or had finally fallen off that rocker and gotten a blunt head wound. I was about five seconds away from calling Travis and begging him to put his grandma in a home. She wasn't only a danger to society but a danger to herself.

"Strip."

Well, if the catsuit hadn't done it, that one word had.

I shook my head. "Strip?"

Grandma rolled her eyes and grabbed another cookie. "You can't be incognito in a tux and a bridesmaid dress."

Okay, so catwoman had a point. I looked to Beth, but she was already digging through the duffel bag grandma had brought her. She pulled out a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt.

Following suit, I unzipped my own bag and found enough clothes to go to the tropics for at least two weeks on vacation. I pulled out a pair of board shorts. "And I'd need these because?"

"No questions," Grandma snapped.

"How did you get all of our clothes so /fast?" Beth asked. "I mean weren't they at the Titus house? Or in my case, the rental car" Beth gasped. "The rental car!"

"Waiting outside." Grandma popped the cookie in her mouth and examined her nails. "Really," she chewed, "it's as if you two don't trust me. Grandma knows best, and that's all you need to know."

"You're wearing a catsuit," I pointed out.

Actually, it was more of a leopard jumpsuit with a long black tail, a leopard scarf that naturally matched, and a black beanie that looked a hell of a lot like something you'd see on a person just before they robbed you blind.

"Hurry up!" Grandma stomped her leopard heel and looked at her watch. It was also leopard. The woman probably had stock in the design.

Beth grumbled under her breath and stomped into the bathroom; within minutes she walked out and looked a bit like a guy's dream come true. Her white t-shirt was snug across her chest, her skinny jeans ripped in all the right places, and black-and-white Converse sneakers that made her somehow look younger. Not that I'd say that aloud lest she remove my balls with her fist. Apparently age was a sore subject. Not that I imagined she was much older. Then again, I wasn't a super good judge of anything lately, so I decided not speaking was probably a good call.

I went into the bathroom and threw on a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans I really don't remember being that tight. In fact, the jeans didn't look familiar at all. Whatever. I grabbed the cardigan and decided against the tie. By the time I emerged, we'd been in the hotel room for fifteen minutes with Grandma or crazy catlady.

"Alright." Grandma clapped her hands together, only it wasn't loud because now she was wearing gloves. I had to look away. Looking directly at her was like reliving the time I did mushrooms in college. An experience I swore I'd never re-live.

"It's time."

****

The elevator dinged at the lobby level. Grandma pressed play on her iPhone and turned to give us a wink, "Side door, a car's waiting. I'll see you in a few minutes. Now let Grandma have the spotlight."

The doors opened.

And "Lion King" started playing. Grandma strutted down the hall and turned the corner.

My mouth may have dropped open as she started moving her hips in a way no woman at eighty-six should know how to move — in perfect cadence with the music she danced. The reflection of cameras going off was our cue.

"Come on." I grabbed Beth's hand and walked briskly toward the back door.

As Grandma said, the rental car was running, and a gentleman in a Hawaiian shirt was at the wheel. "Get in!"

Not needing to be told twice, Beth and I tumbled into the back seat and barely had time to buckle our seatbelts before the old man hit the accelerator, causing the Chevy Malibu to squeal in protest.

"Um," Beth clenched my hand, squeezing it so tight I almost lost feeling, "sir, where are you taking us?"

"Airport."

Beth released my hand, her body relaxing. "That's a relief."

"Don't I know it." The man went through a yellow light and hit the accelerator again, barely making it through the next.

"Mind slowing down?" I asked.

The man's answer was to turn up the music. Just our luck. Britney Spears's "Womanizer" started playing in the background and, of course, our insane driver knew every damn word.

Ten minutes later, we arrived at the airport. I wasn't really sure why I was there other than to help Beth get her crap out of the car. I was officially taking back every thought about one-night stands I'd ever had. No one-night stand should end with your friend's grandmother showing up in a catsuit. Not unless you're high on some sort of illegal substance, which I was ninety-nine percent sure I wasn't.

There was always that one percent, especially when Grandma Nadine was involved.

"Well," I handed Beth her bag, "it was fun."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I expected to be slapped.

Beth's eyebrows arched.

I tried again. "I mean, last night. The cookies, the uh, exercise…" Oh God, I was making it worse. "And—"

"Just stop." Beth held up her hand. "And thanks for the reminder that I consumed that many calories in your presence then promptly puked in my shoe."

Concern punched me in the gut. "You puked?"

"Not the point," Beth said through clenched teeth. "Just give me my bag, and I'll be on my way. Thanks for the best night of my life."

"Really?" I felt my face light up.

"You're such a guy. And I was being sarcastic, Mr. Senator."

I scowled." You can call me by my name."

"Gee, how noble of you, Mr. Senator. I appreciate it. Really. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go back home and try to forget about the catsuit, reporters, cookies, and—"

"Me?" For some reason it was irritating. She was running away. What the hell? Did she remember me at all? Remember the kiss we'd shared? The dance? Anything? It was a damn good kiss, and why in the hell was I obsessing over it now of all times? What was with her? And what the hell was wrong with me? Holy shit, I was going to have a panic attack. I gaped at Beth, expecting her to say something like, "Oh hey, remember that one time you stuck your tongue down my throat? I still dream about it. Want to have my babies?" Okay, so maybe that was a bit farfetched, but for shit's sake! I'd obsessed over her for years! I was hospitalized even! The least she could do is acknowledge that there was a past between us. That's it. Maybe even a head nod or a blink. Wait! She was blinking, and her eyes seemed to narrow. She did remember!

"See ya on the other side!" the insane driver called, throwing my bag at my face before I could protest.

With that he drove off.

Leaving Beth and me staring after him with confusion, and me wondering if Beth was going to talk about the giant-ass elephant in the room.

I was just about to open my mouth and speak, when I heard the daunting click-clack of heels hitting pavement. I'd come to recognize that sound as any normal animal on the food chain would when trying to protect itself from a predator.

I closed my eyes and waited for the footsteps to near.