Suzy-Q

She was alone in the ice cream shop, eating her bowl of cookies and cream Ice cream, and her eyes did not waiver from the black and white notebook she was reading. As usual, men stared, and she ignored them, because this was standard male behavior, and occasionally one of them would muster up the courage to ask for her number and they would strike out, because she was selective with her men, extremely private and too busy to bother with men right now, and a little tired of men using words and phrases like, you are so beautiful, or, what are you eating —may I buy you another?

She thought, so average and non-creative and yes, predictable.  Where are the guys who have courage, but also a little smooth intelligence enough to say to her at the counter, “Hello, do you mind telling me what you recommend as far as flavors here?”  That’s a good start, and worth a little conversation.  Or perhaps, “You know, this place is dangerous for causing ice-cream headaches, but you know, I think the headaches are worth it because the home-made Ice-cream taste is out of this world!  What do you think?”  Another good conversation starter that would likely produce a smile and who knows, maybe a phone number and date. She had to be selective.

But her mind was pre-occupied, and she kept looking back at her table with ice cream and her cherished notebook, realizing she should not have left Ollies notebook there.  She got her cappuccino and moved her goddess-like rhythmic hips gracefully back to her table, and buried herself into her reading once again, but now enjoying the coffee.

The seat across from her at the small table was empty, dangerously inviting to a courageous man, but instead, a feminine hand grabbed the chair arm as she said, “Hello Suzy, may I take this seat for a short while and join you?”

Stunned, Suzy looked up from her reading and stared at this woman with long, flowing, black hair, blue eyes, and legs and a figure that looked like she was a champion ice-skater. She thought, who is this, another model who sees me as competition, or someone planted her?

“Maybe.  Maybe not.  Who are you?”   Suzy did not answer her question about taking the seat, then showed her lack of interest and looked back at her notebook.

“I work for the government and I was referred to you by a mutual acquaintance so that you could help me in an important case of national security.”

Suzy looked up and stared into the woman’s eyes and did not blink and she understood this woman could stop a train with her looks.  She thought about her dad, and of course, Ollie and her heart rate jumped about ten beats as she realized something was not quite right. No one would refer her here to talk, but she responded after a purposeful slow pause, taking a sip of coffee, making the woman keep standing awkwardly for a while, then, with her curiosity piqued, she said, “Go ahead, have a seat.  But if you work for the government, I will need some I.D first.”

Veronica smiled, pulled out the chair, sat down and said, “Sure of course, that’s what I would expect.”   She gave Suzy her driver’s license, but that’s all.  Suzy looked at it, then photographed it with her phone.

Veronica squirmed just a little in her chair and itched her nose, and her right leg began to move back and forth, despite the constant courteous smile, and this movement was extremely unusual on her job.

“What other I.D. do you have, Veronica Smith?”

“That’s it. All you get.”

Suzy knew if she was FBI or law enforcement, ATF or DEA, she would have that appropriate government I.D as well, which told her therefore, this bitch was CIA. But Suzy smiled, acted insouciant and never looked away from Veronica’s eyes, except for that time she saw the very slight bulge inside her lower leg.

“Sig Sauer or Glock?”

Veronica’s smile faded.  She realized this Suzy-Q was not just a pretty face, and well, super-model body.  She was on to her immediately, so she could not lie like she could with others.

“Sig”

“Right.  Well, I imagine it is a P-365 17-1 then, sleek concealment.  Anyway, I am busy, and I have a photo shoot soon, so you have 5 minutes.  Tell me what and who brought you to this little ice cream shop, far away from Langley?”

“Sam the bartender.  You know him. Don’t say you don’t. He told me he met you at the beach bar when I was looking for someone who could help our case, and he gave me some information.”

Suzy did not acknowledge knowing Sam or meeting him at the beach bar before when looking for Carson herself, then Ollie appeared and protected her from some Hairy Mammoth biker who wanted to force a kiss.  What a day.  But she remembered what Ollie told her about her dad Ray, and the promise he made to him when he died in his arms overseas, that he would protect Ray’s young daughter.  “So, who are you really looking for, Miss Veronica?”

“A man named Carson.  S.R. Carson.  He’s a doctor and a writer, but seems he’s got a friend who everyone is looking for, but can’t find, and Dr. Carson is wading into some dangerous waters, full of sharks and Orcas and we need to help him.  I thought I had him, but he got away.  It’s a matter of national security, Miss Suzy.”

Suzy finished her coffee, closed her notebook, grabbed her purse and said, “Time’s up Veronica. I know you are doing what your bosses told you to do, and maybe you will find who and what you are looking for, but it won’t be easy for you, because you are being watched too.”

Suzy got up and walked out of the shop and drove to her Guess photo shoot with Ollie’s notebook tucked tightly in her clenched fist. She remembered what Ollie told her in that letter: I am doing what your father requested of me, before he died, with honor, but because there are many people looking for me, you will not always see me, for your safety, but I will always be watching you, somehow and Carson will know how to find me. She now owned a sense of calm and security and was ready to work.

Veronica stayed sitting, stunned, staring at Suzy’s empty ice cream bowl, and she knew she blew it. And now, it was her turn, and a man came asking for her number too, but she was less cordial in her rejection and said, “Thank you, but I can’t.” But under her breath, she felt like saying: Go home and leave me alone because I eat men like you for breakfast, then spit out the bones.  She got up, got in her black sedan and drove off saying to herself, that bitch is no ordinary model.

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