"Cool," Alicia said with a casual shrug while more Guardians came up the steps. "As long as we know up front, it's all good." She turned and waved her arm out, making quick introductions. "This here is my homegirl, Candace . . . bad momma on technology and got the juice-tactical. You met Sylvia, Mary, and Brother Muata already . . . seers like Mom Owa, and Muata got the ears.But Gus is our strongman, another tactical, and Craig is our team sharpshooter and explosives man-a tactical. Warren, we call him Navajo, he's our nose-a bad tracker andhe's got a lock on the Canadian side real good. Then, Barbara and Earl . . . they're from Chi-town's team, but are visiting for the jazz fest, so I figured you'd wanna meet them, too-because they definitely wanted to meet you all."
The team stood and handshakes and fellowship broke out in earnest. The team went down the row, first greeting the tiny five-foot-two powerhouse, Candace, who had the most wonderful laugh that sounded like tinkling bells and big brown eyes that drew you in. Her size, however, was deceiving-the sister carried a switchblade; a bowie knife; a serrated-edge hunting sickle; and a Beretta-even though she looked like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth at ten paces. Standing beside the dark-haired Greek giant, Gus, she looked like a little girl with a very womanly body.
Next to the huge Greek was the solidly built, clean-shaven, young African American executive look-alike, Craig, who seemed like he'd just come out of a business meeting. He wore a navy blue pin-striped suit and an Oxford blue shirt with a starched white collar, French cuffs, paisley tie, Cole Hann shoes, the works-but Craig's pecan-hued eyes held a depth of knowledge that only fellow soldiers could understand. It wasn't until one hugged him that it became clear that the man was thoroughly strapped.
Navajo could have been Jose's brother, built lanky, sporting a ponytail. Wearing urban corner-boy baggy pants, an oversized T-shirt with Tims, and a black-and-white bandana tied around his head, he just leaned back and smiled, pounding fists. Damali and Carlos shared a look and smiled, approving of the team that greeted them.
"I got da cars, yo-borrowedfrom the plants . . . built Ford tough and Dodge rough, wit Hemis under da hoods, extra exhaust systems, da whole nine . . . since you gonna need to ride or die, yo." Navajo folded his arms over his chest, beaming with obvious pride.
"Aw, Navajo," Alicia said, shaking her head. "You didn't jack the plantagain, man . . . you were supposed to get those rides off the street from our stash-not fresh off the lines."
He shrugged and shot her a dashing smile as the greeting commotion became quiet. "They VIPs, sis-show some hospitality and some love."
"It's stealing," Alicia shot back.
"Nope-it'sborrowing , and we'll get the rides back to the body shop, detail 'em, take out the extras when we all done and roll back the odometers like we used to do on the street . . . ya know, ya know."
Jose laughed and shook his head, but pounded Navajo's fist. "Back in the day, me and you woulda been road dawgs."
Carlos had to laugh, too. But before he could add his two cents to the debate, a loud female voice and a pair of heavy footfalls came up the staircase.
"Chicago in da house," a petite womanshouted, her booming voice surprising for her tiny frame. She was followed by a rock-solidly built male Guardian with a gleaming bald head. "Hey, family!" she said with a wide grin, excitedly looking around the group.
"Hey," everyone said in unison, as her infectious grin and warm personality bathed them.
"I'm Barbara," she announced, not waiting to be introduced, "straight pimp gangsta from Chi-town, and this here is my partner, my road dawg, Earl."
"I don't know her," the man beside her said, laughing. "She crazy, drives like a lunatic, and-"
"Don't you get me started, Earl," she fussed. "See, I used to drive a bus for Chicago Metro, and I told him we had to get here on time. But my brother there, he gotsta be stylish-wearing gators to a possible shoot-out with the darkside . . . you know how the men from Chicago besharp . . . anyway, he was making us late, and I don't play that.Where my gun at, Earl?"
"First of all, I told you I wasn't coming up to no jazz fest where there was gonna be fine women without having my rags right-you know I don't roll like that. And, why you need firearms up in the Shrine? I told you I left that pump in the danged car-you can't jus' be walking down the street with a shotgun in broad daylight, Barbara, no matter how pimp gangsta you is."
"See, this was why I wasn't trying to come to the fest wit his ass-'scuze me Mom Owa."
"You wasn't gonna come with me?" Earl said, feigning shock. "Girl, you lucky I rode witchu! Then you had me calling on Jesus the whole drive-just putting on your turn signal and moving over into a lane that already got a car in it-"
"Negro, that's how I learned to drive a bus. They told us, put the signal on and just move over and they'll get the hell outta your way! They did, too,didn't they?"
"But you wasn't drivin' no danged bus, girl! Youwas in a Kia! That was an eighteen-wheeler youwas moving on."
"Well you the damned tactical that's supposed to have my back and clear the road-that's why they call it riding shotgun, okaaay. Don't get me started."
"Who?Get started? Barbara, don't make me tell on you, 'cause-"
"Oh, oh, so it's like that, huh?" Barbara whipped out her cell phone and began a text message. "I'matell my girl, Dyanne and her husband-uh-huh, and she gonna put you on Guardian network blast up on her station. . . . Yeah, when she does her vampire info show for training-"
"You ain't have to go there . . . how'd I know that girl up in that club was a vampire, with her fine ass? And even if you put me on blast to Dy, that still don't mean you can drive! Plus, it ain't gotnothing to do with nothing, because I didn't get bit."
"That's 'cause I had your back-but now you trying to talk about me and my driving up here in frontaNeterus . . . man, you know I'll take my earrings out over that mess!" She pushed Send and stuck out her tongue at Earl."Now. Dyanne got the update about what happened in that stepper's club."
"So! Dy andme real cool on the team. She's our communications czar, and ain't putting me on blast like that."
Barbara flashed him a brilliant grin. "I know, but she's laughing her ass off-you ain't gonna never live it down."
"You ain't right, girl."
"They're always like this," Alicia murmured to Damali, trying hard not to smile, but her dimples gave away the restrained mirth. "My apologies, but the girl can drive a tank in a firefight though."