Page 31 of Brian and Mina's Holiday Hits
He does what in any other circumstance one might call ‘feeling me up’, and then nods, satisfied. There’s a bounce in his step as he goes off to get ready. He’s always so happy when he gets to kill people.
Phyllis has made Chicken Parmesan with Risotto. I fix two plates and take them to our table. Then I go get drinks. Annette intercepts me on the way back. She’s got that worried look on her face again but she doesn’t say anything except, “Be safe.”
“It’s not that exciting. I promise.”
If she knew I was basically going to ride with Brian to a parade I don’t even get to go to, sit outside for maybe twenty minutes, watch a building blow up, and ride back home, she wouldn’t have her anxious House Mother face on.
She looks like she’s about to say something else, but Brian is striding toward us, fully strapped with his own weapons. He puts a heavy black duffel bag on the ground next to his chair and drops into it.
“I’ll get these into some water for you,” she says, taking the roses. She scurries off without a word to Brian.
The cafeteria is abuzz with whispers and pointing. Apparently Brian and I dressed this way is hot gossip. He looks at his watch five times while we eat. It’s like the energy in him is about to explode.
“It’s time. Let’s go,” he says, finally.
I start to collect our plates, but he puts his hand over mine. “We’ve got people for that. It’s time.”
A nervous flutter runs through me as I follow him out to the black nondescript sedan.
“We want people to think we’re with the government tonight?” I ask.
“No, we want a dark colored car to blend into the night that doesn’t call attention.”
“Oh.” Well, that makes sense.
I can’t stop my foot from tapping as we drive. Brian slides a CD into the player and Chopin starts to play. You’d think he’d get tired of it. You’d think I would. But we never do.
“Can I have a corn dog?” I say.
Brian bursts out laughing, “What?”
“A corn dog. It’s the Fourth of July parade, they’re going to have fair food. Haven’t you ever had a street vendor corn dog? They’re the best.”
“You just ate.”
“I saved room. It’s fair food, Brian.” I don’t know why I expect him to understand the glory and wonder of fair food. I don’t bother trying to explain it.
“Absolutely not. There’s a security guard from the building that’ll be there tonight, and I don’t want to have to explain where my two kids are.”
This time I laugh. “What?”
“Just friendly conversation.”
I watch out the window as the trees blur by, trying to calm my beating heart. I don’t know why I’m so anxious. We’re going to be more than a block away from everything. But still, I feel nervous.
Finally we arrive. We have to drive in an odd pattern to move around barricades and the parking from the parade until we finally find a spot a couple of blocks from the building.
It’s dark and the parade is just getting started. When Brian rolls down the windows and shuts off the car, I can hear the marching band and kids squealing. Some of the fireworks are already being shot off. They don’t wait until the very end here. The fireworks go off intermittently throughout the parade with a big finale at the end.
I can also smell the fair food. I look at Brian and make a sad face.
“No corn dogs.”
“I can go. You can stay here. The security guard doesn’t know what I look like.”
“No, Mina. We’re here to do a job. We can’t lose focus.”
I grumble and slump down in my seat. The clock on the dash reads: 9:11 and anxiety coils in me more tightly as I worry it’s a bad omen.
