Alien in the House

intimidate me, and she had sarcasm down to an art form.
    “Ambassador, do you need assistance in some way?”
    “Why aren’t you calling me Kitty?” The music changed to Tom Petty’s “Yer So Bad.” Yep, we were on Jeff’s 2nd Anniversary Mix, ergo, I was hopefully really awake.
    William laughed. “Because Walter left me very specific instructions, and it’s vital to the running of this Embassy that whoever’s on the com call you Ambassador or Chief. Per his very detailed page about titles and why they matter here.”
    “I love Walter. And you, too.”
    “Always good to know. Representative Martini is downstairs, having a breakfast meeting with several politicians who are, per your husband, all friends. He said that if you were up in time you should join them.”
    “How much time do I have?”
    “They all just got here a few minutes ago, and I think this meeting will run long, so you should be good.”
    “Awesome, thanks.” I took a shower and got dressed while ZZ Top’s “Gimme All Your Lovin’,” Wall Of Voodoo’s “Hands Of Love,” Pat Benatar’s “Never Wanna Leave You,” and Tina Turner’s “Best” played.
    In the good old days before my daughter was born, I’d have taken longer to get ready, and not because I was skimping on the lather, rinse, repeat portions or anything now. During Operation Drug Addict some of our enemies had slipped some seriously strong, power altering drugs into Jeff’s system, which he’d then passed along to our child when I’d gotten pregnant, and she’d in turn passed along to me. We were all about the sharing around here.
    So I was now kind of half A-C, though differently from how Jamie was truly half A-C. I had the super-strength, which wasn’t quite as good as the regular A-Cs under most circumstances, but was still pretty darned good for any human who wasn’t nicknamed The Rock. I also had faster healing and regeneration, which was excellent.
    I also had hyperspeed. Jamie was eighteen months old, and I was just now sort of getting to a place where I could use hyperspeed for normal, mundane things and not crash through a wall or knock myself out.
    Jeff’s cousin, Christopher White, had also become enhanced—though he’d done it intentionally—and he and I worked on my skills all the time. This month, the focus was on completing my personal routine using hyperspeed. So far, showering and drying off had gone well, but I used regular human for hair care because I didn’t want to look like I had mange and it was really easy to yank your hair out when you were super strong.
    As “Looking Hot” from No Doubt hit my personal airwaves, I trotted to our huge walk-in closet to choose today’s ensemble. A-Cs were in love with the colors black and white, and Armani, in a way that made casual obsessions—like mine for all things Aerosmith or Golum’s for the Ring—seem to be merely pale imitations of fidelity.
    Therefore, my closet had a lot of black slim skirts, white oxfords, and a variety of black or black and white high heels in it. Happily, because I was both human, well, mostly human, and the ambassador, I got to wear colors and other styles, at least occasionally. And because I was me, I also had a lot of jeans, several pairs of Converse, and an extremely large and eclectic set of concert T-shirts and hoodies.
    Political breakfast or no, it was the start of July and I was going for casual. Got into jeans, my Converse, and my newest Aerosmith T-shirt, because having Steven, Joe, and the rest of my boys on my chest ensured I would prevail over all obstacles. In honor of “Looking Hot,” I selected a cute No Doubt hoodie, because summer back East was still nothing like summer in Pueblo Caliente, Arizona, and I could easily get chilled. Plus it looked hella cute with this particular Aerosmith shirt.
    Thusly dressed, I grabbed my purse. Yes, I lived on half of the top floor of the Embassy, and I was going down only six floors to get to the kitchen area. However, I’d learned a lot during my tenure with Centaurion Division, and one of the main lessons was that I always needed my purse and its contents handy.
    I had a lot of different purses and handbags available to me, but Old Trusty, my big, black, cheap leather purse was still my go-to option. It took a licking and kept on holding everything and not falling apart. Ensured my Glock, my iPod, speakers, and earbuds, Jeff’s adrenaline harpoon, my wallet, a bottle of extra hold hairspray, my