Leopard's Baby

Tammy raced into the bathroom, knelt before the commode, Tammy wrapped her arms around the bowl, and retched. After what seemed like an eternity, her stomach settled. She continued to kneel, taking deep breaths. Sweat dripped down her face and into the bowl. The other door to the bathroom opened, and her stepsister, Megan, entered.

“How are we doing, Tam?” Megan asked as she squatted next to Tammy and gently rubbed her back.

“What do you mean we, paleface?” Tammy asked, giving the punch-line of an old joke.

“You’re the one who’s pale,” Megan said. She helped Tammy to her feet, picked up a washcloth, wetted it down with cold water, and wiped her stepsister’s face. “There’s no color in your cheeks. Your hair is a disaster.”

“Being pregnant really bites!” Tammy proclaimed.

“If you did that instead of screwing him, maybe you wouldn’t be in the family way,” Megan said and moved her eyebrows rapidly up and down.

Tammy started to laugh. Her stomach convulsed again. She fell to her knees and put her head over the bowl, but this time it was only dry heaves. Once again Megan helped Tammy rise and hugged her. Tammy began to sob uncontrollably. Megan patted her on the back and made soothing sounds. After a few minutes Tammy regained control.

“I can’t believe how hormonal I am,” Tammy said as she wiped her eyes with the washcloth Megan handed her. “Please don’t make me laugh again, Meg. It seems that anything sets me off.”

“You’re about three months gone, Tam,” Megan pointed out. She put her arms around Tammy and once again rubbed her back. “Morning sickness is at its worst in the first trimester. In a week or so you should be over it. Mostly.”

“Yeah, how would you know?” Tammy asked. “You’ve never been preggers. You should have a baby. You sure have the tits for it.”

A year older than Tammy and a senior in college, Megan was slender, medium height, had brown hair, and a large bosom.

“Yours aren’t so bad either,” Megan said with a grin as she lightly touched Tammy’s chest. “As your pregnancy progresses, they’ll get even bigger.”

Tammy was tall, athletic, and had a good figure. Her hair was also brown, though a slightly darker shade than Megan’s. She was eye-catching, but not to the extent Megan was.

“Just what I need,” Tammy said. She rolled her eyes. “To have a bulging middle and be top heavy at the same time. I appreciate your help, Meg. Really. I wish you could rub my back for the next hour, but I’ve got to get in the shower, see if I can hold some breakfast down, and get to class. Meet you downstairs.”

***

The sign on the office door read “SF Security.” Olivia entered into a small vestibule. It was empty except for a camera pointed right at her with a speaker below it. A voice came out of the speaker saying, “May I help you?”

“I’m Olivia Selinson,” she replied. “I have an appointment with Mr. Tenber.”

A buzzer sounded. Olivia opened an inner door opposite the entrance. A pretty, blond receptionist was sitting at a desk. She pointed to an unmarked door on her left and said, “Mr. Tenber is expecting you. Go right in.”

Olivia went to the indicated door, knocked once, and entered. A large, well-built man with a full head of salt and pepper hair was standing behind a desk. “You’re Olivia Selinson?” he said with his eyebrows raised.

“You seem disappointed,” Olivia said.

“I am,” he admitted. “A little anyway. I was expecting someone… bigger… younger… tougher looking. You must be over forty or close to it. You look like a strong wind would bowl you over. Ted Bilson led me to believe you were his best agent before you took early retirement. I can’t really picture you in the Secret Service on a presidential protection detail. Maybe he meant you were great at administration.”

“Before you even you talk to me, you’ve decided I won’t do for this job,” Olivia stated. “You’re wrong. Give me ten minutes and I’ll prove it. Then if you don’t want me, I’ll leave. No hard feelings.”

“Okay, you’ve got ten minutes. What the hell. Thirty minutes. That’s what I’ve set aside for this interview. I’d love to be proven wrong. First, let me tell you about this company, so you’ll know what you’re signing up for.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Olivia said as she took a chair in front of his desk and crossed her legs.

“Every member of this organization is former special forces,” Tenber explained. “That’s where the ‘SF’ in our name comes from.”

“Even Tinkerbelle?” Olivia asked as she pointed toward the reception area with her thumb.

“No, you got me there,” Tenber said with a chuckle. “Margie was never in the service. I meant every working operative. Not the administrative staff. Our primary job is to provide personal security for whomever wants it. Celebrities, politicians, wealthy individuals, visiting dignitaries, whatever. Sometimes we provide security for events, but usually only in a supervisory role. We farm out the floor work to agencies who provide us with rent-a-cops. Our men–women also–are too expensive for such routine jobs, though we occasionally get a client who insists on our best people for everything. Sometimes we do investigative work, but that’s rare. Our people are not really trained for that. Just in case, however, we prefer our operatives to have a PI license. Our main office is in New York. That’s where I’ve been based. We’ve been so successful, we thought we’d expand. I’m here to set up and head an office in the DC area. You have the background. Convince me it would be a good idea to hire you.”

“I’m five-three, 118 pounds,” Olivia said. “You thought I look like I’m around forty. That’s a compliment. I’m almost forty-nine.”

“You’re not convincing me so far,” Tenber said. He looked at his watch.

“You said you’d give me thirty minutes. I haven’t gotten to the good stuff yet.”

“You’re right. Sorry. Please continue.”

“I’ve never been in special forces. I hope that’s not a rigid job requirement.”

“We’ve decided to be flexible,” Tenber said. He again glanced at his watch. “We don’t want to limit the applicant pool now that we’re branching out, but we do want to be sure our people can handle themselves.”

“As long as that’s clear,” Olivia said. She leaned forward and placed papers on his desk. “Here’s my résumé. I’ll give you the highlights. I started out as a nurse. My first husband and I were offered jobs in the government in a… clandestine role working as field agents. Following that we moved to the Secret Service on a presidential protection detail. After he was killed on that attempt on the President in West Virginia about seven years ago, I took a job as a detective in a sheriff’s department out west. Some things happened which I won’t go into now. I found I was happier in the Secret Service, so we moved back east. Our former President and I didn’t get along. I took early retirement.”

“Clandestine service, huh? CIA?”

“No.”

“What? I’m familiar with just about all those guys.”

“A mostly black-ops group called the Special Section.”

“The nutcases who look at all the woo-woo stuff?” Tenber asked and snorted. He took a third glance at his watch. “Did you play the role of Mulder or Scully?”

“I can’t discuss the specifics of any of our operations,” Olivia said, deadly serious. “There were jobs that delved into the occult. You might be shocked at some of the results. Most of our work, however, was against Islamic terrorists using… unusual methods. Sometimes in partnership with agencies from other countries.”

“I have to admit, I’m impressed,” Tenber said. “A little anyway. Bilson spoke highly about you, and I respect his opinion. I like the fact that you’ve had secret agent type experience, and that you’ve been a detective. Would the sheriff recommend you?”

“I was only there for a few months, but I’m sure she would. It was over five years ago, but we still email and text each other occasionally.”

“Do you think you could stand up to the physical rigors of the job? When something happens, it happens fast and requires split-second action.”

He’s looking for a reason not to hire me, Olivia thought. I put myself and my entire family at risk too many people know my true nature, but perhaps it would be enough to show him how strong I am.

“It’s helpful if opponents underestimate you,” she said. “I’m small, but I’m quick. Very quick. I’m also much stronger than I look. If you and I were to arm-wrestle, you’d lose.”

“Yeah, right,” Tenber said. He blew a raspberry and then examined her closely. Olivia bared her teeth. Tenber shivered and said, “I work out daily and I’m over a hundred pounds heavier than you.”

“Care to put it to the test?” Olivia asked. “Right now? Or are you one of those macho men who couldn’t stand losing to a woman?”

“I’ve known some tough women in the service,” Tenber declared as he got to his feet. “Including one commanding officer who I respected a lot. I have no problem with women. If you can beat me, I’ll hire you on the spot at twenty percent more than I was planning to offer. Let’s go to the small table over there by the couch for the big match.”

Olivia walked to the indicated table and rested her right elbow on it. Tenber sat across from her. His right forearm was longer than hers, so when they clasped hands, his was bent forward and hers backwards. He said “Go” and started to push, but was unable to move her arm. After twenty seconds his face became red from the strain. Moving slowly, she bent his arm back until his knuckles touched the table.

“Shall we make it two out of three or do I get the job?” Olivia asked.

“Good God!” Tenber exclaimed as he shook his right arm. “I know when I’m beat. I’ve gotta get the circulation back.” He held out his hand. “My first name is Harrison. Call me Harry. Let me know when you can start.”

***

“That’s it for today,” the professor said as he closed his notebook. “I’ll be in my office for the next hour if you have further questions. For next time read chapter seven and do the first ten exercises at the end of the chapter.”

Tammy wrote a note in her assignment book. She placed her text and papers in her book-bag, stood up, and arched her back. She hefted the bag up, slid her arms through the straps, and took a step toward the door. Someone touched her right arm.

“Excuse me,” a young man said. He was two inches shorter than she, had dark hair cut short, thick glasses, and was about ten pounds overweight. “I’m Jeremy. I couldn’t help noticing that you got a ninety-eight on the exam we just got back. I got a seventy-six. I usually do much better than that in math. I don’t seem to get the group theory questions. Unless you have a three o’clock class, I was hoping you could go over the exam with me. I know Professor Chang went over it today, but he went too fast and I didn’t fully understand him. If you help me, I can pay you. Please?”

Tammy sighed. She’d been planning to go home and lie down, but Jeremy’s puppy-dog eyes seemed so pitiful she didn’t have the heart to turn him down. “Okay,” she said. “I’m Tammy. Let’s go to the student center. You don’t have to pay me. Just get me something to drink. A glass of milk would be great.”

The student center wasn’t busy at that hour, so they had no trouble finding an unoccupied table where they could sit side by side. That position was more conducive to viewing the writing of the other person than sitting across from each other. Tammy placed her book bag on the floor next to her, ripped out a couple of blank sheets from her notebook, and opened her exam book. While she was doing that, Jeremy went to get drinks. He returned with quart container of whole milk for her and a large cup of coffee for himself. Tammy drained half the container without taking a breath, burped, and sighed in contentment.

“Wow!” he said with raised eyebrows. “You must really like milk.”

“I haven’t eaten much today,” she replied. “Do you want to go over the entire exam, or just the group theory questions?”

“All of it, if you don’t mind. Some of the questions are interrelated.”

As they went over the exam Tammy was amused by the way Jeremy seemed to take every opportunity he could to touch her, usually on the hand or arm, and always very lightly. He was sitting to her left and sometimes had to lean over to see what she wrote. When he did that, their shoulders touched. One time, while she was going over a particularly tricky proof, he put his hand on her back and immediately snatched it away. It appeared he was afraid she’d take offense. When she only grinned at him, he again put his hand on her back, barely making contact, until she’d completed the problem.

He wants more than just getting help in math, she thought with amusement. He wants to hit on me, and doesn’t know how to go about it. He seems like a nice guy in a geeky kind of way. I bet he hasn’t had much luck with girls.

After they finished going over the exam, Jeremy had questions about past homework assignments, and the one that was upcoming. Tammy found she was enjoying herself. He wasn’t a bad student and grasped concepts quickly.

When they finally called it quits Jeremy’s coffee and Tammy’s milk were long gone. More than two hours had passed. Tammy was repacking her book bag when Jeremy said, “Tammy, I know you said I didn’t have to pay you, but you spent a long time tutoring me, and you didn’t even know me. Let me at least buy you dinner.”

“That’s a very kind offer, Jeremy,” she said. “If circumstances were different, I’d accept on the spot, but…”

“You already have a boyfriend,” he interrupted. “A big guy who’s insanely jealous and who’d beat the crap out of me.”

“That’s not it,” she said and giggled. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend in case you were going to ask. It’s just that…”

“A beautiful girl like you is not interested in nerds like me,” he again broke in, speaking with a bitter tone of voice.

“Stop interrupting me!” she said sternly. She stared at him. He flushed.

“Sorry.”

“Do I have your attention?”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t turned down your offer out of hand,” she said and saw a brief smile flicker across his face. “There’s two things you need to know about me. First. I’m a widow.” In fact I’m two times a widow, but you don’t need to know about the second one.

“A w-w-widow?” he stammered. “I-I’m s-s-sorry. I d-didn’t know. You’re not wearing a ring.”

“There’s no way you could have known,” she said. She put her hand on his arm. Now I’m comforting him. “I have a fetish about jewelry. I don’t wear any. Unlike most females.” Of course most females don’t worry about changing form. “It’s only been a few months since my husband’s death. It’s still pretty raw. At this point I have no interest in any other male.”

“I understand. I wasn’t asking you for a date. I just wanted to show my appreciation for the time you’ve put in helping me.” Jeremy hesitated and added, “You said there are two things I should know about you. What’s the second?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Jeremy’s mouth hung open. He stared at her wide-eyed, cleared his throat, and started to say something. It came out as a croak. He swallowed, cleared his throat again, and said, “You don’t look pregnant. Shit! If I thought about it for hours, I don’t think I could’ve come up with a more inane comment than that one.”

“I’ve caught you by surprise,” Tammy said with a grin. “I’m about three months gone. I won’t start to show for at least another month. Given what you now know, if your offer to buy me dinner still stands, I accept.”

“Sure it does. Where would like to go?”

“Your treat, you choose.”

“There’s a decent Italian place not far from here. It’s a little early for dinner, but it’s convenient. We could walk to it. That wouldn’t too much for you in your condition would it?”

“I’m pregnant not infirm,” Tammy said and rolled her eyes. “Men seem to think pregnancy is disabling. Walking is good for me. Let’s stop by my car so I can drop off this book-bag.”

“How did you husband die?” Jeremy asked, as they walked along. He immediately added, “Sorry. It’s none of my business. I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Normal curiosity,” Tammy said, but she felt her throat tighten. Determined not to cry, she said, “Car crash.” She couldn’t bring herself to say “accident,” since it was deliberate. It came out in a higher tone and louder than she would’ve liked.

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said again. Tammy was sure his sympathy was genuine. “Were you married long?”

“A few hours.”

Jeremy stopped. Once again he was at a loss for words. “Did you get pregnant on your wedding night?” He flushed, obviously embarrassed by his own question.

“No, I got pregnant before that,” Tammy said matter-of-factly. “We had premarital sex. Does that shock you?”

“Of course not,” Jeremy said. They once more began to walk. “It probably would’ve shocked me if you hadn’t. Did you get married because you were pregnant? Oh my God! I can’t seem to stop myself from asking intensely personal questions that are none of my business.”

“You do seem to have a case of foot-in-mouth disease,” Tammy said. Once again he turned bright red. “I didn’t find out I was expecting until weeks after Brendan’s death. Here’s my car. I’m starting to feel hungry. Let’s get to the restaurant.”