Cooked Goose

fire-breathing monster. “I don’t want to do it.”
    “I know you don’t,” Savannah said gently as she put her hand on the teenager’s back and gave her a firm push forward. “But you need to, of all people. Get in there and show him what for!”
    Margie walked up to Ryan and gave him little more than a nudge with her foot.
    He laughed at her and shoved her hard, taunting her. “Ah, what kind of lousy kick was that?” he said. “I didn’t feel
    a thing.”
    Savannah stood at her back, too close for comfort, deliberately invading her space. “Hit him again,” she told her. “You know you want to. Pretend he’s the bastard that nabbed you and let him have it.”
    Margie hit him this time with her fist in his chest. A second later her foot met his shin with a blow hard enough they could all feel it.
    “Come on, break something,” he said. She punched and kicked him again, much harder than before and she began to sob... but her crying sounded, not like a victim, but like someone enraged.
    “Atta girl!” Savannah shouted. “Again!”
    Margie attacked him with a vengeance, tears streaming down her cheeks, pummeling him for all she was worth. He could only ward off so many of the blows. Others hit, hard and solid.
    “Ow-w-w,” he yelled. “Okay, okay.”
    “That’s enough,” Savannah said, pulling the girl away from him and into her arms.
    She clung to Savannah , her face buried against her shoulder, crying out the pain and fear she had been hiding since her abduction.
    “That’s my girl,” Savannah said, stroking her hair, “that’s my brave girl. You did great, sweetie. You showed that sonofabitch he was messin’ with the wrong woman.”
    Finally, when the girl’s sobs quieted down to simple, silent weeping, Savannah turned to Ryan. “Hey, buddy, are you okay?”
    “It’s nothing a quick trip to the emergency room won’t put right. Congratulations, Margie. I pity the next guy who tries to take advantage, of you.”
    “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Margie asked between hiccups. “Not really, but I’m glad to see that you can turn into a tiger when you need to. That’s what the class is all about.”
    “Okay, ladies,” Savannah said. “I think we—especially Mr. Stone—have had enough for one night.”
    As she watched them leave, pausing to fawn over Ryan, she prayed they would all remain safe until the next time she saw them. “Just remember,” she coached them as they walked out the door... together. “Avoid trouble, run from confrontation, but if you have to fight... whup the everlovin’ shit out of ‘im!”

    * * *

    8:40 p.m.

    One of the many things Savannah loved most about her friends, Ryan Stone and John Gibson, was their uncanny ability to know exactly when she needed a pleasant diversion from life’s challenges. And dinner at Chez Antoine was as pleasing a pastime as could be afforded.
    Of course, on a seldom-employed private detective’s income, Savannah couldn’t possibly afford Chez Antoine, but being the quintessential gentlemen, neither Ryan nor Gibson would dream of allowing her to pay.
    Another thing she loved about them.
    Like the hosts who had invited her, the establishment was pure elegance. From its beveled glass screens between the tables, lush palms, glimmering brass accents and teak paneling, to its celebrated chef, Chez Antoine was a class act.
    And it was Savannah’s favorite place to hang out, pretend to be an adult, and act classy herself.
    As she sat at the table, with its glistening white linens, sparkling silver and crystal, savoring the last bite of salmon mousse, she fell in love with the two stunningly handsome, completely debonair men. And, looking across at Margie, she could see that the young lady had fallen under their spell as well.
    Every woman between the ages of four and ninety-four would fall in love with Ryan Stone. And the British silver-haired fox, John Gibson, was a treat for the eyes, as well. He might be pushing sixty, but Gibson was one of those men who only became more dashing with age.
    Yes, women loved Ryan and Gibson. And they loved women. But only as friends. They were life partners and had been for years. But that didn’t stop ladies everywhere—includ-mg Savannah —from fantasizing about ways to reorient their sexuality.
    “I can’t tell you what a delight this is, having not one, but two lovely ladies for company this evening,” Gibson said, toasting them with a glass of Chardonnay.
    Ryan raised his