Page 75 of Making His Bones

Oo! I cuddled into his body, thinking about seeing his handsome face on the big screen. I didn’t have much time to revel in my newfound life, though. Over the hubbub of the party outside the door came some heavy boots to our door.

Bam! Bam! Wolf Glaser shouted, “Come on, you twerps. Drop your cocks and grab your socks! It’s time to celebrate the Independence Hosting Hagfish Partnership!”

“Yeah!” yelled Ford. “I want details! I can’t believe you didn’t let me in on this!”

“All right!” shouted Gray.

We got very reluctantly to our feet, grabbing items of clothing.

“I want you to know I’m serious,” said Gray. He looked like an overgrown little boy, his hair pointing every which way. “Serious as a crime crossword clue. I want to marry you as soon as possible.”

“Where?” I mused. “Our backyard?”

“Not enough room. Obviously not enough room in the Hip Quiver.”

“Maybe Lytton’s Leaves of Grass farm.”

Gray grinned. “Good enough. Beautiful views.”

It had quieted down by the time we exited Slushy’s office. Tobiah stood on the glass display case, being the only guy skinny enough to do so. Tanner handed him a full champagne glass. Tobiah clinked it with a pink arrow.

“Hear ye, hear ye!” he bellowed.

Most people settled down, and oddly enough, we could hear Slushy playing the guitar in the back alley. It sounded like an electric acoustic, and he was singing, “Ripple in still water . . . when there is no pebble tossed, nor wind to blow . . . “

Santiago Slayer was over by a display of targets. Holding his arm out above his head, he took a selfie along with four Bone Lickers, who gathered close and clung all over him, even though he was missing part of his ear now. By now, everyone was looking at him, but he seemed oblivious. Thumbing a few buttons, he recited into the phone, “My new gals who are definitely not fender fluff.” He was not supposed to advertise his association with the club, but he could never resist social media. “#SantiagoSegovia #SantiagoSegoviaForever.”

“All right, lover boy,” bawled Duji. “I want to hear Tobiah. Then I got to see my realtor about moving to Canada.”

“What?” said Ford. “You’re moving to Canada?”

“You have grandkids here,” protested Fox.

Duji’s wife Dominique said, “Nah, we’re not moving. He just likes threatening to move to Canada.”

Duji kissed his wife, and Tobiah was allowed to proceed.

“As you know,” he shouted, “some of us had a recent run-in with this product called hagfish slime.” Putting down his champagne glass, he took a jar from someone and brandished it. “Namely, Knoxie, Galileo, and our newest fully patched member, Gray. They were amazed at the resilience, the toughness, and the versatility of this product. Well, Gray got ahold of the hagfish people in Oregon. They revealed they’re about to cut a deal with a conglomerate of investors for research into their product, and we convinced them to give us first crack at it. Voila, a new partnership was formed. Independent Slime!”

It was Gray’s turn to speak, and he smartly didn’t want to get onto his own glass case. He stood on a chair and took the jar of slime from Tobiah.

He said, “These fish are champions. They’ve outlasted dinosaurs and many mass extinctions. Someone found a hagfish fossil with slime-producing glands going back 330 million years. The slime is mucus and thread, and when mingled with seawater it produces its famous slime, extremely thin but ultra-strong and stretchy fibers. If you dry them out, they turn almost into silk. Just one hagfish has hundreds of miles of slimy thread inside.”

Galileo couldn’t resist adding, “Scientists think the slime can be turned into pants or athletic wear, maybe even bulletproof vests!”

Grinning, Gray continued, “Scientists have for years been searching for alternatives to nylon and Lycra or spandex, which are made from oil. This slime might provide a renewable alternative.”

Galileo said, “We’re trying to come up with another word for ‘slime,’ though. And definitely not use the word ‘hagfish.’”

“I can guarantee you,” shouted Knoxie, “it’s extremely tough, but very multi-faceted.”

Gray continued, “So anyone who wants in on this caper, just see one of us. Tobiah and Wolf have already joined us.”

“Yeah,” yelled Wolf through a mouthful of fish. He dropped the last tidbit into the waiting mouth of his faithful dog, Beetle. “It’s the up and coming thing. Just see Gray.”

So of course a crowd of people, including Duji who suddenly had a better idea than Canada, crowded around my fiancé. Little Tiago came over from the shooting range to stand by me, along with Janet Treasure and Galileo.

Tiago put both hands on my arm, leaning his head against me. “I am glad you put that stuffed animal away.” He referred to Pfft, Delilah’s first stuffed dog. I had been creeping both Gray and Tiago out by insisting Pfft sit on a living room chair. But since the death of the sinister, twisted Narcissa, I’d felt free to put him up in my closet, not be forced to think about it every time I saw it.