It’s almost been a month since I gave you a Mouse episode and I am sorry for this extensive hiatus especially since we were in the middle of a story. My EXTREME bad! 😦
In case you forgot where we were, it was here. Thanks for sticking with me and Mouse (presuming you have 🙂 ).
Mouse in a Freight Elevator–Going Up!
Diego and I are on the freight elevator alone. He leans nonchalantly against the wall, eyeing me, with a cute smirk on his face. “So, what’s with you? You CIA?”
I grin. “Kind of. Covert ops.”
“Yeah, whatever that means.”
I turn serious. “I’ve got to warn you. We’re walking into a hostage situation.”
He stares at me, not at all surprised, which kind of surprises and scares me simultaneously. “Continue.”
And that word. Huh. Does that sound like something a regular dude, a member of the catering team would say? I wait a moment, recalibrating and looking him over. That’s when a notice the smallest of bulges under his white catering jacket. Terrific. What team is Diego playing for? The Norwegians? Someone else? He certainly doesn’t seem to be with the home team, well, me. I’m the home team.
I straighten up and glance at the number. One level to go on this very slow elevator. “Are you team Norwegian?”
He eyes me. “Do I look Norwegian, chica?”
“My life is filled with people who don’t look anything like they’re supposed to.”
“Mine too,” he says. “Are you carrying?”
I’m still trying to determine whether he’s friend or foe or something in between, but I reach inside my pants and notice him raise an eyebrow and grin. I swear all men are alike; I take that back, all straight men are alike always looking for a woman to do something kinky. I roll my eyes and show him my Springfield XDS.
He opens his jacket to reveal either a Glock or a Ruger. Tom would be very disappointed that I couldn’t tell just from the handle. Can you tell just from the handle? Is it called a handle?
The elevator doors open and we’re met with a hulking blonde guy who probably hasn’t smiled in a decade and is sporting an AK 47 and obviously means business. We both pretend fear. Maybe Diego’s pretending. I think mine is real.