Ogreness, Black Lake-book5

Chapter 40
~

I slept fitfully, as the quaint expression goes. There’s no way I can get prone and not irritate my wound. Flat on my back, curled into a ball, nothing worked. And Grandpa Klow had sure gotten my mind flippin’, despite the case of beer we finished.

At breakfast, Klow told me he’d hang around the place. I gave him a study, but he didn’t change his expression, as though he hadn’t made up a story to begin with. Worried me that he was stickin’ around. I mean, I love the bull, but what did he have up his vest?

I left Sissy with him and headed for the office, after walkin’ to the SUV in the street and tellin’ the two trolls to get inside and make some breakfast. They were really appreciative.

Hittin’ the atrium late, I didn’t have to stand in line for my tall coffee. “Ya okay?” the coffee guy asked.

“Dandy,” I told him.

He called me a liar and shook his dreads. Everyone cops an attitude. Barista prolly isn’t the best profession for an ogre. Service industry as a general rule, isn’t a good fit for us. Maybe, it's been said we lack tact.

Pipeline welder. Boiler maker. Heavy equipment operator. Something we can throw our shoulders into, fit our personalities better. Oh. I’d be a forest ranger if I had it all to do over.

A yellow sticky on my desk from Wizper asked me to call her when I came in. It was a devious test. They told me to stay home and rest. She’d smack me if she knew I was here. So I walked back and closed my door.

Involved in catchin’ up, hours later I only realized someone had been rappin’ at my door when it flung open. Uh oh. Busted. Wizper narrowed her eyes at me.

“Ya know what time it is?”

I looked down at my desktop. Whoa. Where’d the day go.

Wizper stepped in and two trolls followed her. “Ya really should answer yar phone.”

I pointed at my head, which was holdin’ up my cell. Wizper leaned over and flipped the do-not-disturb button on my office phone to off. I hadn’t had a chance to even start on that backlog yet.

I mumbled an agreement a couple times and finally snuck in that I had to go. The Northern ogre I was talkin’ to finally let me escape, and I looked up at the snappy-dressed troll bulls fillin’ most of my office.

“First thing,” I said. “Ya can lose the suits.” I stood and swooshed my hand model-like to my cargo shorts.

“Ya feelin’ better?” Wizper asked.

I got a nod her way before gettin’ around the desk and extendin’ my hand to the first troll. Frip could have been a model, even with the troll nose, chin, and saggy earlobes. If a troll caught a movie role as a quirky private eye that drives a European sports car, Frip would be him. Hair black as coal, bundled high at the back of his head, just reachin’ down to his shoulders, so he wasn’t that old.

His buddy, Ponwr, matched Frip’s seven-seven height. Hair dark brown-almost-black, tied low off his neck with a narrow scarf that matched the sky-blue of his tie, disappeared behind his back, so the elder of the two, almost as stinkin’ handsome, built more like a triangle than Frip’s solid monolith.

“Ya guys siblin’s?” I asked.

“That’s what I asked ’em,” Wizper said.

Darshee peeked around the door jamb. She never gets far from her pal.

The two trolls took each other in. “Don’t see the resemblance,” they both murmured.

Darshee said, “Aren’t ya a partner in a troll clothing company?”

I nodded. Both hens jerked their heads. I squinted at them. They wrenched their heads west again. “What?” I hissed.

“Ya don’t do a lot of advertisin’, huh?” Wizper asked.

What did advertisin’ and two trolls who look like siblin’s—oh. It hit me. I ignored my vibratin’ phone but pulled it up and snapped a couple of close ups of Frip and Ponwr.

I ignored Wizper’s snort while I sent the shots to my partner out West. When I was done I asked them what work they were lookin’ for when my thing is over.

“Well, we’re certified to police anywhere,” Ponwr said.

“With yar sense of taste,” I said. “I might have something else for ya.”

“We avoid our race’s taste for bright color,” Ponwr said. “Staid colors put humans at ease.”

“Trick we learned in the academy,” Frip said.

Yeah. Like I didn’t need shades for their ties and vests. “Not uniform cops?” I asked.

“Yeah. But off duty, we like to dress up some.”

My partner was already textin’ me. Send them to get a portfolio made. He was on the same frequency as the hens.

Wizper asked if my grand was still in town. I hadn’t heard from him, so I texted him. She and Darshee were lobbyin’ for dinner out when he replied, Still here and hungry. Most ogres don’t bother explainin’ the latter. We’re always hungry. So I texted that we’d pick him up.

We should drive south. We’d all stand out around here where restaurants cater more to humans. Darshee mentioned a dive out on the east county line that was known for its share of annoyin’ flies and gnats, and burn the gut, fire-seared carcass ogre-style. I shoved my thumb in the air, and packed up. The hens jogged away to get their stuff. “Meet in the atrium,” one of them rasped.

I strolled leisurely, askin’ a thousand questions to get acquainted with Frip and Ponwr. The third guy Zug talked about was at my place. Jam. Frip said I’d prolly think he looked like a brother too, since all of us trolls look alike. I ignored the remark.

For athletic-lookin’ guys, they weren’t into basketball, which made my shoulders sag. I’ve never really found a troll that truly likes the game, which makes no sense, because with their long arms, they’d be a natural. Have to raise the rims another five feet though.

Both of their parents have summer places on the Range’s Southern Slopes they’re considerin’ retirin’ to. I suggested they avoid the rush. The two trolls nodded.

Fifteen minutes later Klow crawled into my truck, and our caravan of four vehicles headed east.

“What ya think of yar bodyguards?” Klow asked.

“They’re guys,” I said.

And neither of us said another word until we got to Pops Sears Em. The hens and I usually hold down the bar when we come here, easier to keep the barbeque sauce off yar shirt, but I walked back to the booths for Grand’s sake. He’s old, and bony.

Our five trolls fanned out around us at tables, and drew a lot of glares. Pops Sears Em attracts a lot of rough human characters from the oil fields, which is odd, since ogres and goblins almost own the industry.

Tall pitchers were ordered first. I could foresee wakin’ Wednesday with another headache. Before we ordered our meals, Darshee asked Grand to dance with her, since she loved the blues playin’ on the juke.

Klow may be decades over a hundred, but he was quickly swingin’ the creaky hips against Darshee’s in a flash.

Wizper mumbled something about a horn dog. “Ya interested?” She flicked a thumb toward them. I don’t dance so well when I have energy. I just closed my eyes at her.

“Party pooper.”

With a change of song, we drew them back long enough to get our order in, and Klow and Darshee were back out there. Wizper turned our dead pitcher upside-down to signal our server.

“Ya talk to Nuel today?” Wizper asked.

I shook my dreads.

“She’ll be headin’ home Friday,” she said.

She’ll be happy, I’m sure.

“Was a more interestin’ vacation than she expected, spose?” Wizper asked.

I hadn’t thought about it. Maybe not that memorable, considerin’.

Wizper dug at me with other Nuel-oriented questions until we finished that second pitcher. Our food came and Klow and Darshee joined us again. And Klow continued Wizper’s strange interrogation.

“So ya gonna make a move on the hen before she heads back?”

If I hadn’t had a mouth full of cow I might have gaped at him. I glanced at Wizper and Darshee, to take in what they thought of Grand’s rude question. They appeared too eager to hear my answer.

“What?” Darshee rasped.

I’m no fool. I know both of ’em have a thing for me. Why would they be interested in seein’ me, uh, encouragin’ a thing with Nuel?

“They need ya,” Klow said, “to get mucked up with a female so they can finally add punctuation to their desires and move on.”

Darshee jolted a vicious elbow into the old bull’s ribs. He grunted, hard, so she hit him with the force it looked like she had. Wizper reached across the table to whack him, but he lunged back so she couldn’t reach him.

“Donchya hens respect yar elders?” Klow asked.

“Only when they deserve respectin’,” Darshee hissed. “I’m not dancin’ with ya no more.”

“Good. Ya dance like a wash hen anyway.” Klow didn’t hide well the smile twitchin’ to get out. He got an arm down low enough he saved his ribs, but the elbow to his bicep had to hurt almost as badly.

I double downed on my eatin’, happy I wasn’t the topic any longer. And just as happily, the four of us ate like ogres for a while, meanin’ we didn’t talk, until we were cleanin’ up the side stuff on our plates.

“Doke asked me to do some politickin’ up North,” I said.

Klow appeared to look for his top shirt button.

“Are ya kiddin’?” Darshee asked.

Both hens shook their dreads, as though I was makin’ no sense. Darshee wrenched her head. I guess it was hen body language, because Wizper rose and walked to the little dance floor with her.

Country was prevalent for the moment, and the two were two-steppin’. Klow moved to my side of the booth to watch them with me.

“No one has ever figgered out how one of ’em kept from snarin’ ya,” Klow said.

Main reason I avoid gatherings with kin, is that kind of remark. I love both of the hens, but not that way.

“Ya talkin’ to politicians, for real?” Klow asked.

“Actually, council lawyers have me set up on late night TV.”

“Won’t get an ogre watchin’ ya.” Klow emptied his glass, poured another.

“Humans are the target,” I said. Though I figgered that should be obvious.

“Good. I don’t know an ogre that stays up past eight.”

I maybe smiled. We ogres are typically early risers. Not much for TV. Certainly not network. Hand an ogre a Russian classic and their evenings are set for a month.

“Ya think ya can convince a few humans of anything? A lot like smackin’ yar forehead into a brick wall.”

“Not really,” I drawled.

“Then why go?”

“Something that has to be done.”

“Can’t ya send ’em video tape?”

“Got to have some reason to view it,” I said.

“Why would one of those human talkin’ twits even want ya on?”

“I think the council marketin’ people offered them money,” I said. Just a guess.

Klow nodded. A brace of voices cracked over the country music. I ignored it. Pops does cater to a rough clientele, so wasn’t exactly uncommon for a divergence of an opinion to prosper before the ogre bouncer can shut it down.

Tables screeched against the ancient wood floor. Maybe a couple chairs toppled. A couple human bodies hung from troll fists a moment later.

“We could handle ’em ourselves,” Darshee hollered.

“Ya’re supposed to be watchin’ over him,” Wizper rasped.

I smiled. Human males tried to break in on Darshee and Wizper? Really? As though a human could keep up with an ogre on the dance floor. Had to been a dare.

The gun that suddenly pressed into Grand’s forehead wiped the smile from my face.

~ Nuel ~

I guess I should have called one of them. I worried Ike turned for the worse, but surely one of the hens would have called me if he had. I figgered they would call me, or at least I hoped they’d call me for dinner. I enjoyed the flirty Klow. Looked forward to a repeat.

Finally, I sat down and snacked on what Silva put out for us. The poor human is pretty much beside herself trying to figger out how much to feed an ogre.

~