didn’t apply any. Gave my hair a good brushing and decided to go with putting it up in a fancy banana clip. Easy, yet looked like I’d put some real time and care into the ’do.
“You look gorgeous, baby,” Jeff said as I finished up. He kissed my neck.
My neck was my main erogenous zone, and he knew it. “Mmmm, you do that any more and we’re going to call in as too horny to attend.”
“Not an option.” He kissed my neck once more, then took my hand and we headed downstairs.
Pierre and Reader kept us all busy handing out assignments and ensuring we all knew what not to say to whom, so much so that the time flew by. Painfully, sure, but at least the ordeal went quickly.
Doreen and Irving Weisman also added in with suggestions and tips. Doreen was the daughter of the former heads of the Diplomatic Corps and Irving was her human husband. Because she’d grown up in this life, Doreen was our most experienced member on staff, and because he was a guy who’d scored a Dazzler—meaning he was incredibly smart—Irving had paid attention and was now as good as Doreen at saying the right things at the right time.
Doreen’s parents, Robert and Barbara Coleman, along with the rest of the former Diplomatic Corps, had been eaten by the Poofs, on my order, during Operation Confusion. Doreen had loathed her parents by that point, so she wasn’t holding a grudge.
Also, my order or no, the Poofs held a great deal of political sway on Alpha Four, meaning that if the Poofs ate someone, most A-Cs went with the idea that said someone deserved to be Poof Chow. There was polite mourning and then everyone went on about their business. I chose to never argue when my alien relatives by marriage had some whacked out belief that meant they didn’t hate me.
Of course, most of the A-Cs had no idea what had happened to said former Diplomatic Corps—though I was sure some had a good guess. The party line was that they’d disappeared and we were still searching for them.
However, Doreen had certainly deserved to know what had happened to her parents. That the Poofs had agreed to chow down had given her a reason to not feel guilty for not feeling bad that her parents were dead. We were all about the silver linings these days.
Doreen had just finished reminding us that smiling and nodding were great, but laughing at bad jokes was better, Pierre had reminded us that our New World Order had created some happy politicians and some tense ones, and Reader had just finished up stressing how the politicians from our home states were probably the most vital to keep happy, when the doorbell rang.
“Places, everyone,” Pierre said. “It’s show time.”
Walter, who was, as always, on the com, turned on my music mix. The happy sounds of “Party Rock Anthem” by LMFAO met my ears.
“Really?” Jeff asked.
“You all said I should create a tasteful party mixtape.”
Jeff looked at Pierre. Who shrugged. “I’ve learned, Jeff darling, to let Kitty win on the musical choices.”
While Jeff grunted and muttered something about classical music and why it was good, Len and Kyle went with Pierre to station themselves as our Embassy’s bouncers. Of course, they were bouncers with all the special C.I.A. toys that allowed them to easily spot bugs, hidden firearms, and other pleasantries.
Jeff and I headed to what we called the small salon. As the Co-Head Diplomats, we had the job of initial paw shaking and such. Once our guests had been properly greeted, Pierre led them into the dining room, which had been converted into a cocktail party area, albeit without the cocktails. A-Cs being deathly allergic to alcohol meant we were a teetotaler nation, and because we were on our own land in the Embassy, we enforced that rule as a “religious custom.”
Happily, Pierre brought in the most welcome guests—my parents.
“You didn’t take a gate?” I asked as I hugged my father, who was in a nicer suit than he normally wore. Appreciated him dressing up for the occasion.
“No, kitten. Your mother felt it would better if we were seen arriving.”
“Just glad you’re both already here, Sol,” Jeff said as he let go of Mom and hugged Dad. “Always nicer when you and Angela are with us.” He meant it, too. I’d truly married a great guy, and my parents agreed.
I got my mother’s breath-stopping bear hug. “You look perfect, kitten.”