Touched by an Alien

to the others in the car. I snatched it out of his hand. It was still covered with slime.
    “I’m more interested in how you knew where to stick it.” The third man’s voice. I looked around and realized Martini and I were facing the back of the car, Martini across from the older man, me across from this one. He was built along the same lines as Martini and the older man—big, handsome, and Armani-clad. He was also bald, and his skin was the kind of black that looks almost ebony.
    “All the men handsome in this agency?” I asked the older man. “Because, if so, trust me when I say I can help you recruit all the women you want.”
    He laughed. “I’m Mr. White.”
    “Right. And he’s Mr. Black?” I said, indicating the man across from me.
    “Great sense of humor,” the black man said dryly. “No, I’m Paul Gower. But thanks for the compliment. His name really is White. Richard White. Don’t call him Dick.”
    “Unless he acts like one?”
    “Not even then,” Gower said with a small smile. “Now, you going to impress us with your manners and tell us your name?”
    “No. I’m sure you all went through my purse while I was out.” I looked up at Martini who contrived to look innocent. “Right. So, you know who I am.”
    “Actually, you woke up before I could find your wallet,” Martini admitted. “I don’t know how you found that pen; your purse is like a black hole.”
    “I prefer to think of it as Mary Poppins’ carpetbag. Okay, okay,” I added to the looks I was getting from both White and Gower. “I’m Katherine Katt, k-a-t-t, and yes, before you ask the obvious, my parents call me Kitty.”
    “I like it,” Martini said with a sly grin.
    “What do your friends call you?” Gower asked.
    I gave him a long look. “You’re not my friends yet.”
    White chuckled. “Fair enough, Miss Katt.”
    “Oh, let’s call her Miss Kitty,” Martini pleaded.
    I wiped the slime on my pen off on his pants. “I’m not gracing that with a response.”
    “My God, I think I’m in love,” Martini said with a laugh. But he didn’t take his arm from around my shoulders.
    “I’ll bet you say that to every girl who stabs some weirdo with a pen.” I tried not to think about the fact I liked his arm around me. There was more going on, and I had to stop acting as though we were at a singles bar.
    “Only the sexy ones,” Martini replied, pretty much wrecking my not-a-singles-bar mind-set.
    “I’d have gone with beautiful,” Gower said. “Women tend to prefer that compliment.”
    “But we want her because she’s smart and resourceful,” White said, and I could hear something in his tone that sounded like my father’s when he’d finally had enough and wanted us focused on business.
    Martini and Gower heard it too, because they stopped bantering and both looked more serious. Me, I didn’t care about White’s wants. Yet.
    My phone beeped and I pulled it out. I’d missed a lot of calls. “Thanks for not letting me know people were trying to reach me.”
    “We could hear the phone,” Martini said. “Just couldn’t find it in that thing.”
    I took a look at my missed calls list. “Mr. Brill, Caroline, Chuckie, Janet. Normally I’m not so popular at this time of day.”
    “Maybe they’re lonely,” Martini said. “Who’s Chuckie?”
    “A friend, why?” One of my oldest friends, actually, but I didn’t see any reason to share this with Martini.
    “He the one who has the ‘My Best Friend’ ringtone?”
    “Yes, what of it?”
    “Just like to identify the competition early,” Martini said with a grin.
    “There is no competition, because we are not an item.” There, I was back on firm, feminist footing. Besides, Chuckie and I weren’t dating, and one fling a few years ago didn’t count. “However, I really need to call these people back, particularly my boss, who I’m sure would like to know why I’m not back at the office yet.”
    White shook his head. “No, we can’t allow that, I’m sorry.”
    My phone rang again. It was Sheila. Martini snatched the phone from me before I could answer it. “Look, that’s one of my other oldest friends. I need to answer.” The phone stopped ringing, but started right up again.
    Martini looked at it. “Amy. Don’t tell me, let me guess … another old friend?”
    “Yeah. Sheila and Amy are my best girlfriends, Chuckie’s my best guy friend. I’ve known them since ninth grade. I really think I need to answer my damn phone.”