Alien Tango

bored but focused way about them. I wasn’t going anywhere, at least nowhere near the C.I.A.
    We were at a larger gate, and they went through together. We watched them slowly fade away. I controlled myself from tossing cookies or trying to pull them back, and then Reader and I headed back to the Bat Cave level.
    No sooner had we exited than Queen’s “My Best Friend” came on my cell phone. “You haven’t changed that yet?” Reader asked as I dug my phone out of my purse.
    “No reason to, any more than I can’t hang around you. You two are my best guy friends, and he’s my oldest friend, too. Nothing more.”
    Reader shook his head. “Jeff doesn’t like it.”
    “I don’t like not getting to go to visit the C.I.A. It evens out.” I moved away from him as I answered. “Hi, Chuckie, what’s up?”
    “You okay?” He sounded worried. Of course, he’d sounded worried for the last several months, ever since I started being evasive about where I was, what I was doing, and who I was doing it with.
    “On top of the world. Why?”
    “Just curious. You going to the class reunion?”
    “Are you high?”
    He snorted. “No major lifestyle changes over here.”
    “Okay, good. And, of course I’m not going.” I considered. “Were you planning to?” I couldn’t imagine why. Chuckie had been, and still was, the most brilliant guy in any room. High school had been four years of torture for him. I still wasn’t sure why he hadn’t just taken the tests and headed for college when we were both freshmen, but he’d stuck it out.
    Of course, he could win either the Least Likely to Succeed or the Class Hero awards now. Possibly both. He’d gone from short, acne-suffering, thick-glasses-wearing geek to six-foot-plus, clear-skinned, contact-lens-wearing handsome guy by the middle of our freshman year at Arizona State University. He’d also become a multimillionaire twice over. And had somehow remained the same sweet, cool, fun, supportive, and protective person he’d always been.
    “Not really.” He sounded evasive. “Thought I might if you were going, though.”
    “Well, if I change my mind somehow, I’ll let you know.” Or rather, if Martini changed my mind, but the chances were slim and I didn’t want to mention the possibility. Because I hadn’t told Chuckie about Martini yet. I hadn’t even told him I was seriously involved with anyone. Because he’d want to meet my new guy, and there was no way I could lie to Chuckie face-to-face about anything, let alone about aliens really being on the planet. Martini knew this and didn’t care for it. At all. Not that he wanted me to out him to Chuckie, but that Chuckie knew me so well and I was keeping them away from each other bothered Martini in the extreme.
    “Sounds good. So, how’s work?” He sounded like he wasn’t expecting me to be truthful at all.
    “Fine.” Well, this was true. Sure, I wasn’t working as a marketing manager any more, but still, I was being truthful about liking what I did now. “Busy. How’s stock trading going?”
    “Fine. Busy.” He chuckled. “You know how it is.”
    “Not really, but I’ll trust you on it.”
    He was quiet for a moment. “Yeah. I’ll trust you on yours, too. Kitty?”
    “Yes?”
    “Promise me that if you get into something you can’t handle, if you’re in danger you really can’t get out of, trapped in a situation you feel you can’t escape from, or if you’re unhappy for any reason, that you’ll call me right away and let me help you.”
    This was both totally in character and weird at the same time. Chuckie had always been there for me, since the first day of high school, and I’d been there for him. But this request had come out of nowhere.
    “Dude, you know I don’t go to frat parties and drink from the open tub of Jungle Juice any more.”
    “So you claim. I want your promise, Kitty.” Chuckie’s voice was in his “won’t take no for an answer” tone, meaning he meant business.
    I swallowed hard—I got into trouble on a regular basis these days, sometimes on an hourly basis. Sure, I’d always handled it, or Martini had been there to save me. But still, in the past, I’d called Chuckie when I was in over my head.
    An almost overwhelming desire to tell him what was going on washed over me. He’d been called Conspiracy Chuck by everyone but me when we were in high school and by half of everyone we knew in college. In part because he’d always believed aliens were on