Alien Diplomacy

song,” Bernie said. “You like oldies and classic stuff, too?”
    “I like everything.”
    “Wicked!”
    We quietly rocked out with our babies for the rest of the time. Class ended far too quickly, but I felt a lot better about things. I’d made a friend who was, as near as I could tell, just like me, and that was worth all the crap I’d gone through earlier.
    Bernie and I exchanged cell phone numbers. “You guys doing anything this weekend?” she asked as we packed up our stuff and I chased after one of Jamie’s bottles that had rolled away from me.
    “Yeah. I wish we weren’t. We’re going to the President’s Ball.”
    “Oh, wow, you’re so lucky. Wish we were going, but professors, even law professors, don’t rate an invite.”
    I shrugged as I put the bottle away. “I’d prefer to stay home or go to a movie. I don’t really expect to have a good time.” I also expected some kind of assassination attempt, but that was definitely something I didn’t think I should share with Bernie, and not just for security reasons. Why scare off the only girlfriend I’d made in this town in three months? I’d let her find out what my life was like after we’d had time to bond over more than Mommy and Me and my iPod.
    “Well, maybe we can do something together next weekend. If your schedule allows for it.”
    “I’ll do my best, believe me. Even if I have to insult a dignitary to do it.” This was, sadly, not so much a Cool Chick thing to say as likely prescience on my part.
    Bernie giggled. “Wicked.”
    “Only when someone pisses me off.”
    Bernie gaped at me for a minute, then she burst into laughter. “You’re great. I can’t wait for Raul to meet you. He’s going to think you’re to die for.”
    “Same back atcha. I think Jeff will get a kick out of you, too.”
    “Hanging with you,” Bernie said emphatically, “is gonna be a blast.”



CHAPTER 9
    W E WANDERED OUT, EXCHANGING PLEASANTRIES with the other moms. No one appeared about to assassinate me or anyone else, so, while still possible, suspects seemed unlikely in my Mommy and Me class. And the instructor didn’t tell me to disavow all knowledge of her or the class, so I counted this in the win column, too.
    I had no idea where he’d managed to stash the limo, but Len was with Kyle in the waiting room, guarding the stroller, diaper bag, and Poofs.
    Bernie sort of stared at the boys. We said our good-byes, and she hustled Jordan out. I hoped my having big bodyguards wasn’t going to mess up our budding friendship, but there was only so much I could do about it.
    “I’ll go get the car,” Len said as he stood up.
    “Don’t bother. I’m sure we can walk it.” I had on my Converse, so I was prepped for walking. Besides, the various A-C assigned drivers had refused to allow it. Ergo, I wanted to walk to wherever the limo was.
    Len and Kyle exchanged glances, and Kyle shrugged. “Mister Reynolds said she was the boss unless he had to override her for some reason.”
    I put Jamie in the stroller, happily surrounded by Poofs, and we headed out, the boys flanking me.
    Something made me look across the street. There was a familiar figure there, leaning inside a doorway. Buchanan nodded to me, shoved off the wall, and walked off in the opposite direction from where we were going.
    “Who’s that?” Len asked.
    “Someone from my Washington Wife class.”
    “Why’s he here?” Kyle asked.
    “No idea.”
    I pondered this weirdness for about half a block, when a familiar figure with black hair and beard stepped out of a doorway. He was dressed as I was used to, in casual, baggy, well-worn but clean clothes, big camera around his neck. I still couldn’t tell if the clothes hid muscles or pudginess. He was under six feet and much smaller than Len and Kyle all the way around.
    He beamed at me, blue eyes twinkling. “Here you are, my favorite alien lover.”
    “Mister Joel Oliver, always a pleasure. Meet Len and Kyle, my friends, who, like me, don’t believe in aliens.”
    Oliver snorted. His snort was a lot more like mine than Mrs. Darcy Lockwood’s. I wondered for a moment what her opinion was of Mr. Joel Oliver, then figured it had to be poor. He was the main investigative reporter for the World Weekly News after all, and I didn’t have to ask to know what Lockwood thought of that kind of newspaper.
    Len and Kyle nodded at him. “Nice to meet you, Mister Oliver,” Len said, in a tone indicating he was lying.
    Oliver