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Or at least Ed’s mom was. She wanted to meet her daughter’s work partner. The last one had been David, but since he was out of action, at least for a while longer, Edna chose me. Besides, David fell far behind the rest of us during his rehabilitation. Even Cait has progressed beyond him.
Our former team leader wasn’t too far behind, a few weeks after his return would see him ascend to Level 2, and a month or three more after that for Level 3. Unless we powered-Leveled him. The magic and silver would need longer to accumulate since the drop rate had bottomed out a month ago.
And really, this was not going to be a short-term endeavor. Gate hunting will by necessity take decades or longer before we even feel ready to go fight the big boss in the Black Gate. A month or two wasn’t much of a setback in my opinion.
It came down to, I didn’t like David that much, since a few things he had said and done lately stuck in my craw. Besides, I still blamed him and his stupidity in our first run for George’s death, and his knocking zombies down for them to swarm over our ankles to bite at will without a word in warning.
Since my car was still in the parking garage under the federal building, Ed picked me up and drove us to the Morton’s, north of Evanston. She teased me the full hour ride about girls dreaming themselves wet after watching my video. That I was wearing black would be added points on the bad boy category. So too were points added for showing up the ‘cops and firemen’.
Creased cream-colored slacks, gold three-inch strappy heels, gold silken, long-sleeved blouse, and assorted jewelry made this feel like a date. Ed’s actions and demeanor didn’t.
The usual spiky hair had been pulled back in a normal short ponytail, cinched with a thick gold barrette, bright red lipstick, mascara, eye shadow, blush, and rouge heavily tilted the scales toward the date end of the spectrum.
Her mixed signals, confused the hell out of me.
“I wonder how well me and my armor would handle a full swing from you?”
“No way in hell, will I agree to that.”
“You’re no fun. Watch out for David, he will want to take leadership back when he is cleared.”
I grinned, “He has to catch up first. Did anyone tell him about my title?”
“Not even Francis or Christoff knows. Just your women,” she grinned back.
I didn’t ask, I didn’t ask...
Edna’s mother, Mrs. Peters, ‘Call me June’, was as formal as one could get. Iron rod inserted up her ass included. How she fit a ten-foot pole up inside of her sphincter was beyond me. She was only 5’6”.
Of course, she did not approve of me. I made less than a million dollars a year and didn’t have my own private jet, like Ed’s brother-in-law Todd did.
Ed’s rolling eyes spoke volumes at her mother’s standards.
“I’m not even looking. Jason is a friend and a partner. Don’t be a bitch mother.” Was Ed’s reply when asked by her mother about settling down and raising a family.
“Edna Olivia, do not refer to your mother as a bitch.”
Not a single contraction throughout lunch from Mrs. Peters. The meal was decent. Both Ed and I ignored her mother’s shock at the amount both of us consumed. Including desserts. (We both had two entrees and desserts.)
“Mother I eat a lot. So, does everyone else on the team. We have to. We burn calories too fast. Just consider us professional athletes.”
When Ed said that, a serious frown appeared in Mrs. Peter’s eyes. We separated, I paid the check, the bench creaked on standing. I wasn’t sure of the etiquette in the Peters’ world, but I knew that those chairs would not last under my increased weight. So, booth it was.
Ed’s quick glance wasn’t missed by her parent.
“I don’t think your mother likes me,” I joked on the way back to Chicago.
“She did like you, Jason,” I was corrected. “You should have been there when David met her. The waitresses pulled out ice skates.” A full laugh at the memory and on to other pleasant topics we went.
The first one I had heard from Ed. Ever...
I received a call from the guys, and Friday’s bar crawl was arranged. Jonas received a promotion and he would be stuck with the tab.
“We need a girls’ night out. Too bad they are only eighteen,” The glance in my direction from Ed, before changing lanes, was too blatant of a hint for even me to miss.
“There is always room for pretty girls on bar night.”
“Poor Heather, she can’t come.”
Laughing, Edna made me text Heather and inform our boss of her ‘obligatory attendance’.
In the last two days, Edna emerged from her cocoon. Our butterfly aligned her attack formation. Maybe she finally let me in personally, not just professionally. I needed to wait and see.
Four very serious teens entered my condo that night while I was playing around on the Xbox.
“Did something happen?”
“You went out with Edna today.” A group accusation.
“Yes. She and I had lunch with her mother. She took David, too when they first became partners,” I added in self-defense.
“She was gorgeous!” Nat complained.
“Seriously, she has been hiding.” Caitlin joined in on the fun.
Grousing ensued for the next hour. Kate was disgruntled until well after dinner.
My defense of ‘it’s the same Ed we have been teaming with all along’ did not hold an ounce of water with any of them.
Ring, “Yeah?” my personal line, not my business line ring tone sounded with an unfamiliar number, yet it was from the same Florida area code as Paula.
“Gimpy Dud. How’s you been?”
“Hey Borkowski,” no one else called me that, “how did you track me down?” I had not spoken with my former teammate since he was drafted in the sixth round by Miami. Outside of emails and Christmas cards. In the last couple of years, I had not spoken to many of my former teammates, most had dropped off the radar after my injury and me leaving the team.
“I got your number from my mute of a cousin. I didn’t know she actually spoke.”
Paula?
“Paula is your cousin?”
“Yeah, she is a great girl. We didn’t do the best by her growing up. She always was shy, but she seems to know a certain Hunter in Chicago. A good friend, she says. Sound like anyone I know?”
“We’re partners, her dad helps us get programming jobs.”
“Cool. Thanks for helping her out. That’s not the reason why I’m calling. But thanks anyway. We need help. I think the Black Axe is you, right?”
“Black Axe?” That was new and unfamiliar, yet all too accurate.
“Yeah, that step twist screams Jason Blakely. Saw enough film of you that year, none of us in that room will ever forget it.”
Damn.
“What do you need?” I gave in.
“We, some guys from a couple of teams and I, made a Hunter team. We were about to hit level four on our Indigo and Miles LeBeau blew a tire. His left foot was crushed under a car hauler on I-75. We need one more run for all of us to get Level 3. It sucks that we only get one Status point, but it’s the breaks. What can you do? You know how it is.”
“You do know that Indigo level four is a death maze?” I warned.
“We know. We read your blog. Paula pointed it out to us. You’ve been there and we want a guide. We agree to any terms, we just want the experience and a trustworthy guide.”
Matt was always smart and solid. That was how he got drafted in the first place, even if it was in the sixth round.
“We crush the third floors of Indigos right now. The Blues and Greens are out. The Feds have those sewn up. That leaves being bored on threes or trying fours. Violets suck. The bugs are all too short.” Mat was 6’6”, three inches taller than me.
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