Touched by an Alien

It stopped ringing again and I snatched it out of Martini’s hand.
    “So, why does only this Chuckie guy get the special ringtone?” Martini asked.
    “I’m not gracing that question with a response.” I looked at my phone. Text messages were pouring in.
    “I have to insist that you not contact anyone yet,” White said, before I could type a response of any kind. “I assure you, we’ll let you return calls in a short while.”
    I had the feeling White would suggest that Martini crush my phone in his hand if I argued, and Martini looked strong enough to do it. I gave up and shoved my phone back into my purse. “So, what’s this actually all about? I mean, I don’t think that was a movie set, so how did that man sprout wings?”
    White sighed. “I’ll tell you about it when we get to headquarters.”
    “Just where is headquarters? As I mentioned and my missed-call log shows, I’m supposed to be back at work.”
    “If you join us, you won’t be going back there anyway,” White said.
    “Great health and dental,” Martini offered. “Mental health benefits are the best going.”
    “What about vacation?” I asked as sarcastically as possible.
    “I was thinking Cabo, maybe Hawaii. You must look great in a bathing suit, even if you do sunburn,” Martini replied without missing a beat. “I’ll make sure to put sunscreen all over you, though, I promise.”
    White gave another sigh, of defeat this time. “We’ll explain it to you as soon as we can pry you away from Jeffrey here.”
    “Not gonna happen,” Martini said cheerfully. “She’s looking, I’m looking, no rules about intercompany relationships, so get used to us as a couple.”
    “Geez, you sure are confident I’m going to throw myself at you.” I wondered if this really was his usual way with women, or if he was going to turn out to be some insanely desperate, smothering, clingy man who proposed on the first date and then stalked his exes after they ran screaming into the street to escape him.
    “Nope. You just think we’re all hot, and I know how to stake a claim early.” Martini nodded to Gower. “Make sure you spread it around—she’s mine.”
    Gower shook his head. “He’ll propose on the first date, but don’t let it panic you. He’s not as mentally unstable as he seems, as unflattering as that last comment might be taken by you. Jeff here just knows what he wants quicker than most of us.”
    “Great.” I looked back over to White, who seemed both amused and frustrated. “Where, exactly, is this headquarters? I’m asking because I live around here, and I know the fastest routes to the airport at any given time, and we are clearly heading to the airport.”
    White smiled. “You are just what I’ve been hoping for.”

CHAPTER 3
    IT TURNED OUT HEADQUARTERS was in New Mexico, of all places. Several miles outside of Roswell, New Mexico, to be exact.
    It was a short plane flight from Saguaro International. Of course, they had a private jet, gray and mostly unmarked. The limo driver was also the pilot, and he fit the mold, though like whoever had my car, he was smaller than Martini.
    During the flight I made several Men in Black jokes that weren’t met with a great deal of real or even forced laughter, and Martini continued to use his considerable charm to make me unsure whether I should start picking out china patterns or consider plastic surgery in addition to going into my own version of the witness protection program in order to make sure he’d never be able to track me.
    On the plane I got a chance to take a look at myself, and I figured Martini was just playing around, because I was a disaster. Barring this group having the best dry cleaners in the world on staff, my suit was ruined. My hair was a mess, and my face was dirty. My shoes and purse were about all that had survived relatively unscathed. I decided not to care and felt I could maybe read the Feminist Manifesto again without total shame.
    Against all commercial air flight rules, I was allowed to send text messages to those who had called or sent texts to me, mostly because the list kept on growing and Martini wouldn’t let me actually speak to anyone. He also insisted on reading my texts over my shoulder, which he said was for security reasons but seemed more so he could lean over me and breathe in my ear.
    Everyone other than Chuckie seemed to take “I’m okay but with the police and don’t know when I’ll be free” in stride. It didn’t