Solace took her first sip. “Ahhh,” she sighed as she placed her cup on the table of the local Starbucks. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had iced coffee. Thanks for inviting me. I needed a break. I’ve been working nearly around the clock the last four days.”
Ignatius looked up as he savored his first sip. “Really? Since I hadn’t seen you around, I thought maybe you took another job.”
Solace shook her head. “No. One of our friends sustained some injuries and I had to help with his recovery.”
Remembering what the I-Man said about her specialty, he nodded. “Lately, campaign headquarters has become a madhouse, I had to get out or go nuts. So thanks right back at you for taking me up on my offer.”
“You’re welcome,” she said with a smile. She cleared her throat. “Well, this is awkward.” She paused, raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. “I know what they call you but I don’t know your real name and… well…” she let the question die there. They both knew the reason.
Ignatius returned the smile. “Yeah, well, let me think.” He looked away for a moment then said, “Okay, tell you what. Call me what I’m known by out there on the mean streets.” He tilted his head toward the open door and the sidewalk.
“And what’s that?” she asked, taking another sip.
“Lord Mountbatten.”
Solace nearly spit out her coffee. She threw her head back and laughed.
Ignatius grinned. “Now how about you. What do I call you?”
“Well, since I do not come from royalty, nor do I have a street name,” she said reaching for a sugar packet, “I’ll have to make up something. How about Tish? I once had a friend with that name.”
Ignatius gave a quick nod. “Okay then, from now on, Tish, it is.”
She grinned, poured the sugar into her coffee and stirred. “Lord Mountbatten, huh? Obviously you are a person of great importance.”
He put his index finger to his lips. “Please, as a professional campaign lackey,” he said gesturing to his campaign button, which read:
Vote for Noon.
You know why.
“I have a lot of responsibility. So, if you need your mail sent to the wrong address or your trash emptied, you need look no further.”
Smiling, she said. “When they speak of this, and only heaven knows why they would, let it be said, this was…”
Before she could finish, a huge man with massive hands and a jagged scar across the length of his forehead stepped over to their table. Wearing dark blue coveralls that reeked of oil and propane, he stood in front of Ignatius and pointed his meaty finger at the campaign button. “That bastard Noon is going to ruin it for all of us!” he growled. The lower part of his face reminded Ignatius of a large mouth bass. “If he keeps leaning on the corporations, we’re all going to be out of a job!” He reached down, yanked the button off and flung it out the open door and into the street.
Ignatius was thunderstruck. “Why you sonavabitch!” he bellowed as he rose from his chair. Before he could get to his feet, however, the stranger shoved him back into it.
He pressed his hand down against Ignatius’s shoulder, holding him in position. He leaned down and spoke in a low conspiratorial tone. “Next time I catch you wearing a ‘Vote for Noon’ button, little man, it’ll be your head I rip off and toss into the street. You got me?” With that he shoved Ignatius’s chair—with him in it—backward to the floor and then up-ended the table, which dropped on Ignatius’s chest. The iced coffees took to the air and spilled, for the most part, on Solace.
Gasping, off balance and unable to get up, Ignatius tapped his earpiece and the rectangular photographic lens snapped into position in front of his right eye. As his assailant glared down at him, Ignatius snapped his picture. Another tap of the button and the photo was e-mailed to his computer in the lab.
“Hey, tough guy!” Ignatius called out. “You think your life sucks now? Just wait a couple of hours and it’ll be a living hell. I promise!”
The man snarled, pushed his way through the onlookers and stormed out.
As Ignatius and Solace walked the streets of Manhattan on their way back to campaign headquarters, Ignatius brooded. “I can’t believe that guy. There I am, minding my own business…”
Solace took his arm, pulled him close and patted his chest to show support. “What was that famous old saying? Never discuss sex, religion or politics?”
“Oh! So, I’m supposed to hide the fact that I support Noon for governor?”
Solace turned toward him, knit her brows and shook an admonishing finger. “Now you look here, young man, I don’t ever want to hear any defeatist talk like that again! Why, you go out there and show the whole damn world who you want as governor. Have your ass proudly kicked; have your nose stoically flattened; have your nads punted into your fuselage damn it! And the next time some hulking imbecile with hands the size of cured hams approaches, steps on your feet and uses your head as a speed bag, you just go ahead and unleash the power hidden inside that 145-pound frame. Cause when you present me his head in your bowling ball bag well, let’s just say, that night, you’ll be in for some sweet, sweet lovin.”
He stopped and stared at her. “Okay, I’ve simply got to ask, did you just make up that entire soliloquy on the fly?”
“Oh, is that what they’re called?” Solace asked as she turned to check her reflection in the store window. “My parents, rest their souls, used to refer to them as …well, let’s say Tish’s raving lunacy. Hmmm, soliloquy, huh? Well,” she added patting her hair. “I’m going to have to remember that.”
She looked up and saw they were back at 43rd Street and Madison Avenue. The Hudson Towers, was just across the street. “Well, we’re here. Fun times over, Mountbatten. Guess it’s back to work.”
Noon 2: The Resurgence is being released at the end of August. Why not download the original, Noon: The Rise to Power now so you can be in on the fun when the sequel arrives. Only $2.99 and it comes with a money-back guarantee if you don’t like it. (Sorry, USA residents only) DRM free so it’s available to any electronic device. Click here for a look.
