Page 62 of At the Ready

Yannick huffs and ups the accent ante. “If that’s the attraction, you can be spoiled for choice here.” He pauses. “And I’m much better looking. My nose has only been broken once. JL’s nose is just a misshapen blob from the many, many times it has been pummeled.”

“So, he’s braver than you?” she teases.

“Non, just not as smart. I know how to give blows and avoid receiving them.”

“Enough. Don’t pay any attention to this blowhard, ma chouette.”

“Okay, Beau, whatever you say.”

“You call him Beau?” Yannick starts laughing.

By now we’ve reached the car rental place.

“What type are you getting?” Yannick asks.

“A Porsche. Come in with me so you have all the info. Micki, stay with the driver until we bring the car around, okay?”

She frowns but doesn’t come with us.

“Is this serious, chum?” Nosy fuck. I purposely misunderstand.

“Don’t think there will be any trouble here, but there’s an outside chance the douche will show up.”

He’s unrelenting, like a cat stalking birds. “Not the surveillance, dumbass. The girl.”

I rub my hand against my head. “I think so, but I’m afraid Maman has other ideas.”

“Have they met?”

I push open the glass door and walk up to the counter. “Not yet,” I tell him.

He makes that clicking sound that shows disapproval. “But she knows your friend is with you.” His flat stare dares me.

“She knows, but…”

“But what?”

“She just knows I’m bringing a friend.”

“Ah. Well, that confrontation should be interesting. We’ll be watching so we can rescue you when your maman beats your ass.”

The man behind the counter sniffs. “May I help you gentlemen?” His British accent is so sharp and polished, he can’t have been here long enough to have the edges rubbed off.

“JL Martin. I have a car reserved.”

He taps at the keyboard, then peers at the screen. “A red Porsche for a week. Will you be driving across the border?”

“No.” I hand him my driver’s license and U.S. passport.

He looks down, then glances at me in surprise. “American?” While he’s making a copy to go with the paperwork, I call out, “ Both, actually.”

“Will your friend be driving it as well?”

Yannick exhales, and a propulsive blast of air hits the guy in the face. “Non.”

The agent steps back, eyes wide, but quickly recovers. “Why are you in Vancouver, Mr. Martin?”

WTF! This is not passport control or customs. Just a bored nosy parker. “Visiting my mother.” All true, but his smile tells me he’s unconvinced. Well, fuck him.

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