Chapter 14

The marshal who replaced Tom Jenkins on her detail was a woman named Jessica Snow. Len Thomas had chosen her as his partner because they had worked together in the past and it had gone very well. Len had a girlfriend and Jessica was married, but there was just enough attraction between them to make working together stimulating. Protective details were invariably boring, unless, of course, you were being assaulted by criminals or the Russian mob. But those kinds of things were pretty rare, and that meant that boredom was the most common enemy on a protection or fugitive-hunting mission.

Jessica was not a beautiful woman in the classic sense. She was shapely, but that was primarily because she was in shape. She ran and worked out regularly. Her hair was short, because it was easier to take care of that way. Her face was round and somewhat flattened, as if she had some Chinese ancestry back in her genealogy, but there was no hint of an epicanthic fold in her eyes. Few people would have called her “pretty” but that was because, like Lacey had, all those years, she tended to mute her femininity. She worked in a male dominated profession, so she adopted some male characteristics. Her personality was bright and made people want to get to know her, but she could be tough as nails, too.

Lacey worked in a male-dominated environment, as well. She was used to that. She was also used to having to compete on a playing field that wasn’t all that level. Her skill and tenacity were what let her flourish in this “hostile” environment.

Basically, she and Jessica were birds of a feather.

Because she wasn’t going to work, and because she couldn’t stay naked and either under or on top of Bob all day long, Lacey spent more time with the members of her protective detail than she had in the past. The new entryway allowed her to leave her apartment door unlocked, so they could come and go as needed. Bob was always going out there and talking to them, so she got into the habit of doing the same thing.

That’s how she got to know Jessica Snow.

Jessica was of the opinion that her face was too flat, her nose too small, her eyes too widely set, and her lips too full. Like many women, she perceived flaws that others might not have thought of as flaws. And like many women, she used makeup to alter her appearance, downplaying some aspects and highlighting others. This became apparent one day when she arrived for her shift having come directly from the gym. She had worked out and taken a shower. She hadn’t had time to put on any makeup. Lacey happened to be sitting on the couch with Len, who had just been briefed by Dick Hooker, who was going off shift.

“Whoa,” said Len as Jessica put down her purse and took out a comb. Her hair was still damp. “Rough night? Get mugged?” He grinned, making it clear he was teasing her. He knew she didn’t like to come to work without her makeup on. They teased each other a lot.

“I got tired of you leering at me,” she said, casually, running the comb through her hair. “You’re such a horn dog.”

“Men,” snorted Lacey, taking her “sister’s” side.

“It’s not our fault,” said Len. “It’s in our genes to appreciate women. And admit it, you ladies usually try to make yourselves attractive to the opposite sex.”

“I didn’t,” said Lacey, without really thinking about it. “Not until I met Bob.”

“True. I remember the first time I saw you. I thought you were a little scary,” said Len, also without thinking where that might lead.

“That’s kind of harsh,” said Jessica, frowning at her partner.

“He’s right,” said Lacey, who thought of Len as “family” now, and took no offense at his comment. “Back then I was pretty hung up about men. I was raised in what I now know were incredibly oppressive conditions. I was taught to be afraid of men. It wasn’t until I had to have protection that I got to know a man well enough to find out my beliefs about men weren’t valid.”

“I know you’re not talking about Lenny,” said Jessica, smiling. “He’s the poster child for annoying males everywhere.”

“Then why’d you agree to work with me?” asked Len. “Admit it. If you weren’t married you’d be panting after me all the time.”

“In your dreams,” she snorted.

“I’m not allowed to have those kinds of dreams,” he said, sadly. “I talk in my sleep, and my girlfriend records what I say.”

“That’s a perfect example of what I’m talking about,” said Lacey. “Before I met Bob, if a man talked to me like that I’d have called a cop.”

“I’m only teasing,” said Len. “She’s a good partner.” He grinned. “When she remembers to put on her makeup, anyway.”

“I don’t even own any makeup,” sighed Lacey.

“You don’t need it,” said Jessica, frankly. “I was at the celebration when you won that trial. The guys were flocking around you. If you used makeup, you wouldn’t get any peace at all.”

“All they were doing was congratulating me,” said Lacey, flushing a little at this uncommon praise.

“When men congratulate each other, they shake hands, or slap each other on the back, and then go find a drink,” said Jessica. “That’s not what they were doing to you.”

Lacey looked at Len.

“What do you think?”

“I think you came out of your shell, and people started noticing you for things other than your prosecutorial skill,” he said, diplomatically.

It was at that point that Bob came out of the apartment, looking for Lacey.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said.

Both women looked at him. Len laughed.

“See? Neither one of you needs makeup.”

Bob looked confused.

“We were just talking about whether Jessica and I need makeup,” said Lacey.

Bob looked from one woman to the other.

“While I applaud a woman’s judicious use of paint and paste on her face, I fear that would be too distracting for the poor men who would then be unable to think of anything else except the ravishing beauty of your visages,” he said, tongue in cheek.

“I vote for the ravishing part,” said Len, grinning.

“He has a silver tongue,” said Jessica. “I see why you fell victim to his wiles.”

“She is no victim,” said Bob, stoutly. “I was footloose and fancy free when I met her, able to wander where I willed. Then, suddenly, I was captured, enslaved by a woman, a siren I was unable to resist. It is I, who am the victim here,” he said, sadly.

“And he’s full of it too,” said Jessica. She looked at Lacey. “I don’t know what you believed about men before you met him, but he’s pretty typical.” She smiled.

“I got us a slot at the range,” said Bob, getting back to why he’d been looking for her. “You need to practice. We both do.”

“I could use some bang time,” said Jessica.

Len laughed.

Jessica frowned at him.

“Don’t even go there, pervert.”

“You said, it, not me,” he said, still laughing.

“Give me five minutes to get ready,” said Jessica.

She used those five minutes to put on her makeup. When she emerged from the bathroom, Lacey paid attention to something she’d never really thought much about before and realized how much a little color on a woman’s face could change her appearance. She thought about the reunion she’d RSVP’d to just the day before.

It was while they were at the range, putting holes in paper targets, that Lacey got Jessica off to the side and asked if she’d teach her how to apply makeup.

Lacey’s friendship with Jessica didn’t end there. Now she had another woman to go shopping with, and it was entirely appropriate, since that woman could also protect her while they wandered the aisles. Bob often wondered if anybody around them had any idea what kind of lethal potential they were dealing with. Both women looked normal as pie. Between them they had four guns within reach. Jessica had shown Lacey her Flashbang bra holster, and she got one for her Taurus. Then she got to shoot Jessica’s Kimber micro CDP at the range, and she bought one of those, too. After that she usually carried that in the bra holster, and kept the Taurus in her purse. Most people would scoff if they found out a woman carried two guns. But most people have never been shot or had to defend themselves from anything more than a rude comment.

Speaking of bras, Lacey was delighted to have a woman to shop for those with, too. When that kind of thing was going on, Bob usually held back, kind of roaming the perimeter, so he didn’t look like Chester, the molester, trying to scope out women in the underwear section. Besides, he knew he’d get to see whatever she bought anyway, later.

There was one of these big shopping trips the week before Lacey’s law school reunion. Lacey said she needed a dress and some other casual clothes to wear at the reunion, which was going to be a two day thing. So she and Jessica spent an hour looking at dresses. Then they went to Victoria’s Secret, where it was impossible for Bob not to look like Chester. Next were shoes. He didn’t have this kind of experience with women, but he was pretty sure that the way he felt was the way most men felt when they went shopping with their wives. But he didn’t mind a bit, because that meant Lacey was approaching something much more on the ‘normal’ side of things, when it came to women.

The last thing they bought were swimsuits. On the second day of the reunion there was going to be a pool party. Lacey had no interest in showing her body off to that degree. She was only now wearing sexy bras and blouses that enhanced her natural features. To show you how wily women can be, the way Jessica got her to agree to a relatively modest one-piece suit was by whispering that Bob would be with her, and that people would pay more attention to him than her. Both women thought his scars made him look dangerous and mysterious.

It is impossible to know what would have happened at that reunion had not Bob met her and become an agent of change in her life. Probably, she wouldn’t even have gone. Those people held no special place in her memories. And, to be honest, it’s likely the primary reason she did go was because there had been so much change in her life. The time she’d spent with those people, back then, had established her as a less-than-plain Jane, with odd ideas, who might be a lesbian, except that even women wouldn’t find her attractive. But it had also been clear that she was one of the smartest in the group, and many times they depended on her to get them all through a study session, or while preparing for an exam.

She knew that. She’d been teased. She’d felt used. And she knew she was a completely different woman, now. There was some part of her that wanted to appear there so she could say, “See? I’m normal. You guys didn’t give me a chance back then, so I went on without you. I have a good job and I can have a good man... so there!”

Of course she wouldn’t actually say that. But all those people were smart, too. It would be obvious.

The importance of all this, at least from Bob’s point of view, was that Lacey had become normal enough to have a little vanity. It didn’t amount to narcissism, but she was proud of the strides she’d taken to leave the hypothetical, illusory world her mother had constructed in her psyche, and become a woman who could find happiness, passion, and hope for the future.

It worked rather too well. As it turned out, when they got to the hotel and she went to the registration table, the woman sitting there smiled up and said, “Welcome to the reunion. I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you.” This woman was wearing a name tag that had a picture on it, and the name, “Jill Ryan-Mitchell”.

“I’m Lacey Cragg,” said the palpable prosecutor, who was dressed in a skirt that fell to a point three inches above her knees, and a silk blouse in an African print that was tucked into the waistband of the skirt, seeming to advertise the size of her breasts. Bob happened to know the stockings she had on were held up by a garter belt, because he’d helped her put it on. It was the first time she’d worn anything other than panty hose with a skirt.

The fun thing about thigh-high hose and a garter belt is that, for purposes of utility, they should be donned before panties come into the picture. Makes it easier for the lady to use the powder room, that way. And, of course, if a man is helping her put on those hose and that garter belt, then he has, by necessity, a very good view of one of that woman’s “good bits.”

It had taken them half an hour to put on her hose and garter belt, because he got distracted by giving her an oral orgasm.

Whether that had anything to do with the fact that she looked beautiful and successful and sexually satisfied or not is an argument to be had another day. The fact is that Jill Ryan-Mitchell responded immediately with, “No, you’re not. I remember Lacey Cragg and, sweetheart, you ain’t her.”

“Of course I am,” said Lacey, startled. “You’re Jill. We were in the same law review group.”

The woman snorted and picked up a slim book. While she was leafing through it, Bob could see it was a yearbook, the pages of which had photographs and what was probably biographical information about each person. She found the page she was looking for and flipped the book around so Lacey could see it. Bob peered past her shoulder.

“That is Lacey Cragg,” said Jill, sounding triumphant.

The first thing Bob thought of when he saw her picture was that it looked a lot like a mug shot. Her unsmiling, pinched face stared at the camera with no interest whatsoever. The tight bun her hair was in was low on the back of her head that day, making her look a little androgynous. He knew this photograph had been taken when she was in her early twenties, but the woman in it looked much older. The second thing he thought of was “sour puss old maid.” She had worn a sweat shirt that day, and it fell from her neck downwards with barely a hint that there were breasts under it. The third thing he thought of was the woman in the picture called “American Gothic” by Grant Wood.

“That’s me,” said Lacey. She got her wallet out of her purse and extracted her driver’s license from the little snap case she kept all her cards in. She handed the license to Jill. The photo on the license had been taken before Bob met her. Lacey’s features had softened a little by the time this photograph had been taken, but it was obviously the same woman.

“That is Lacey’s driver’s license,” said Jill. “I’ll give you that. But you don’t look anything like the person in either of these pictures.”

“Of course I do,” said Lacey. “I just changed my hair, that’s all.”

“Honey,” said Jill, looking her up and down. “That’s not all you changed.”

Jessica stepped forward and flashed her badge.

“I’m Deputy Snow, US Marshal Service. This woman is Lacey Cragg.”

“And why are you here?” asked Jill, a little frostily.

“I’m one of the U.S. Marshals on her protective service detail,” said Jessica.

Jill looked at Lacey.

“You brought bodyguards?”

“I told them they could stay home for this, but they’re kind of stuffy about that,” said Lacey.

“Will wonders never cease,” said Jill. “Okay. Whatever you say. Sign in here and I’ll get you your name tag.”

Lacey leaned over to fill in various lines on her registration form. Jill handed her a name tag that had the same picture on it that was in the yearbook. It was obvious this had been done for everyone. No doubt someone thought this was a cute idea and would generate conversation.

“You have to wear your name tag to be admitted to the major events,” said Jill. She looked at Bob and Len. “Are they your bodyguards too?”

“Yes,” said Lacey. “One of the marshals will stay in my room with me. I didn’t list them on my RSVP, so I hope there’s another room available.”

Jill examined the information Lacey had put on the registration form.

“You just put down prosecutor. People will want to know more, such as where you practice and so on.”

“Then I guess they can ask me about that,” said Lacey, smiling brightly.

“Tell me ... Lacey,” said Jill, who then displayed that she was still unconvinced that Lacey was ... Lacey. “What was the law review article we worked on?”

Lacey rose to the challenge with no little feeling of elation that her makeover had been so successful.

“Our group wanted to compile a list of the most cited law review articles published in the California Law Review. Sam Bradford wanted to cap it at twenty years, but you felt like we had to go back at least fifty. Do I need to go on?”

“Well how about that,” said Jill, smiling. “You’re going to be the talk of the reunion, Lacey. Trust me on that.”

“I don’t know why anybody would be interested in me,” said Lacey. She meant that.