Alien in the Family

means Kitty in Spanish.”
    “Yeah, it does.” He kissed my forehead. “Go to sleep now. I’ll come and get you by midafternoon. If you wake up sooner, just call me.”
    “Okay.”
    Reader grinned. “Trust me. I’ll have everything taken care of, and anything you don’t like we’ll be able to change. Okay?”
    “I’ll trust you.”
    He grinned again, kissed my cheek, then left, closing the door quietly, but firmly, behind him. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and the exhaustion hit. Staggered to the bedroom, stepped out of my shoes, lay down, purse, jacket, dress and all still on, and went to sleep.
    I woke up and could tell I wasn’t alone. It was light in the room, but I had no idea what time of day it was. Tried to figure out if I was in trouble and where the other entity was. There was pressure on my chest. I managed to move my head a bit and look down. To see Harlie and Poofikins asleep between my breasts, curled around each other. Harlie looked at me, purred, curled back up, and went back to sleep. I decided to follow suit.
    Woke up again and knew I wasn’t alone, and this time I knew it was someone other than the Poofs. I opened my eyes and looked around. No one I could see. Sat up, got to hear much Poof grumbling as they tumbled from my chest to my lap. Still no one in the room. But the bedroom door was closed, and I’d left it open.
    I moved the Poofs back into the jacket pocket that didn’t have my iPod in it, got my Glock out of my purse, and got out of bed as quietly as I could. Checked the closet and under the bed—nothing. Crept to the door. Opened it like I’d seen Chuckie do, from the side so the wall would block me, pointed the Glock out.
    “Whoa there, Superagent Girl. Gun down. It’s a big crime to shoot your superior.”
    I pulled the gun back. “Chuckie, what are you doing here?” I dumped the Glock back in my purse and walked out to the living area.
    He was sitting on the couch, arms stretched out on the back, watching TV with the sound very low. “Got some sleep, then woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. Reader brought me down here with, of course, the message that if I put moves on you, he and many others would conveniently forget I was their superior and rip me a new one, literally, and so on.”
    “Why are you watching TV?” I yawned and went to the fridge. “Coke or Cherry Coke? Or whatever?”
    “Coke. And I’m watching it to relax and maybe fall back asleep. Duh.”
    I opened the fridge and grabbed a Coke for him and a Cherry Coke for me. Took the straw that was in the door for me, didn’t bother for him. Tossed him his can.
    “Hey, Dudette, you have to stop doing that. I hate it when it sprays.”
    I snorted. “Payback’s a bitch, and so am I.” I plopped down on the couch next to him. “So, what’re we watching?”
    “Reruns. Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous right now.”
    “What, are you and Jeff on some scary wavelength? I thought he was only separated at birth from Jerry.”
    He shrugged. “I like it. I’ve been to a lot of the places they show. It’s interesting to me to see what they were like a few years ago.”
    “Yeah, you are the one with the big money.”
    “So’s Martini. You’d better get used to it.”
    “He lives a lot more simply than his parents do.” I thought about it. “Like you.”
    “Do you want to?”
    I thought about this. I knew Chuckie well enough to know this wasn’t casual talk. “I don’t know. Comfy middle class has always been fine. I like the Lair. I like Dulce and Caliente Bases. Of course, I really like the maid service, but it’s fine here. Like the dorms, only for grownups.”
    “I miss the coed floor sometimes.”
    “I miss having you right there sometimes. But, why are you asking about living arrangements?”
    He sighed. “Martini is going to want to give you the best of everything, shower you with gifts, buy you an expensive house, the works. And I know you. That will sound great to you for a little while. Then your father’s training will kick in, and you’ll realize you don’t need ten thousand square feet even if you have a bunch of kids. You’ll feel guilty for wearing designer clothes when other people can barely afford shoes. And he won’t understand, because you liked it before.”
    “What makes you so sure of all this?”
    “I know him. Not like you do, but as a professional, a peer, if you will. I’ve seen how he is with you—which is nothing like he is with anyone