“And he’s quite the budding electrical engineer, I can tell you,” Mr. McG spoke up. “Really knows his stuff. I keep telling you, Judy, it’s a real growth field.”
“Such a well-mannered young man,” chimed in Mrs. McG.
“Look, guys, he’s my date, not yours. Come on, Daniel, let’s go.”
“I’ll put your flowers in your room, dear.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“And I’ll find that copy of Popular Wiring I was talking about-the issue about lightning-proofing.”
“That’d be great, sir.”
“Okay, Mom and Dad. I’ll be back by midnight.”
“Have a good time,” they said in one voice, holding hands as they beamed at us.
“Creepy, huh?” remarked Judy as we stepped out the door.
“They seem nice. And, um, healthy. Say, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you and your mom didn’t get any caviar in the mail the other week.”
“Oh, no, we got it all right. Can you believe it? Russian sturgeon are on the endangered species list, and our local news station decides it’s a good idea to send the entire town tins filled with eggs that they ripped out of the bellies of pregnant fish. I totally e-mailed Al Gore about it.”
“Actually, they weren’t Russian sturgeon.”
“Really? That’s what it said on the label, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, but you can’t believe everything you read.”
“Well, anyhow, I think fish eggs are a gross concept. I’m still glad I threw them away before Mom saw them. They can’t be good for you anyhow.”
“That’s a safe assumption,” I said, taking her hand.
Chapter 50
I MATERIALIZED AN extra helmet and helped Judy onto the back of my motorcycle.
“Where’s a good place to eat in this town?” I asked through the intercom as we sped down her street. “Besides the diner, I mean.”
“There’s not a lot. There’s one of those all-you-can-eat Lobster Hut places that my parents like, but I’m not really into seafood.”
“That’s understandable,” I said, quickly logging onto the Internet. Another little perk of being an Alien Hunter is that I have wireless broadband connectivity… in my head.
There really wasn’t much in the way of five-star restaurants in Holliswood. I took a few seconds to scroll through the customer comments on cityguide.aol.com and found that the At-Least-It’s-Not-Monday franchise across from OfficeMax had the best reviews.
It wasn’t exactly the sort of place in which you’d expect to bump into a New York Times food critic, but the HELP WANTED sign in the window gave me an idea, and I quickly summoned two characters from my imagination-Wolfgang, a chef trained at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, and Jean-Luc, a headwaiter with the skill set of an employee of Le Cirque in New York.
They rushed in ahead of us, and the stunned manager hired them on the spot. Jean-Luc complimented a wide-eyed Judy on how much she resembled young Greta Garbo as he led us to a secluded table in the corner that was already set with starched white table linens and a floral arrangement that Judy said was the most beautiful she’d ever seen.
“I knew Thursday was ‘Chicken Finger Night,’ ” she said as our third course, Canard à l’Orange, arrived at the table. “So I guess tonight must be ‘Haute Cuisine Night.’ ”
“You should tell your friends.”
“Are you sure you didn’t have anything to do with this, Daniel?”
“Hey, if I had the kind of money to make something like this happen, would I be in Holliswood?”
“I guess not,” she said, and laughed. “But I’m glad you are.”
Whereupon I once again blushed as only an alien can.
Chapter 51
WE’D BEEN LOOKING forward to dessert but had eaten so much we couldn’t possibly squeeze in another bite. So I gave Jean-Luc a handsome tip, and I took Judy for a ride in the country.
Judy wrapped her arms around my waist as we sped down back roads, losing ourselves in the confident drone of the engine and the buffeting, summer-perfect air. We drove for miles and miles, eventually stopping to look at some constellations from a distant field-I helpfully illuminated the lines between the stars so Judy could see the shapes more easily-and then, at her suggestion, we looped our way back to the King Kone drive-through near the high school.
“It’s weird,” said Judy, as she dismounted and took off her helmet. “This place is usually mobbed with kids. It’s like the hangout. Jocks, stoners, goths, skate kids, sometimes even the World of Warcraft shut-ins.”
“Maybe they heard homeschooled kids were starting to show up and decided it wasn’t cool anymore,” I said, earning myself a jab to the ribs I could have easily dodged but didn’t.
The ice-cream stand itself was a tiny affair, more awning than building. It was basically just a counter area where the employees served the ice cream; a walk-in freezer; and the men’s and women’s rooms, which were accessible from outside.
We ordered a couple of soft-serve cups from the bored-looking counter boy and claimed a picnic table in the back, as far from the noisy road as we could get.
“Oh, darn,” said Judy as we sat down. We’d failed to notice some chocolate sauce on the side of the table, and her dress brushed against it. “I’m going to get some soap and water on it so the stain doesn’t set. Don’t eat my ice cream while I’m gone.”
I was pretty close to being done with my own already and shrugged.
She wagged her finger at me and headed inside, leaving me to find a cleaner table where I could contemplate my empty dish-and why her ice cream looked so much better than mine had.
I was just lifting a tiny spoonful to my mouth-pretty sure she’d never notice-when a blue flash lit up the ice-cream stand, and I heard the telltale blast of an alien firearm.
So I never did find out if her ice cream was any better than mine.
Chapter 52
I RAN SO fast I could hear napkins, empty Styrofoam cups, plastic spoons, and other litter getting sucked along in a vortex behind me.
I flattened myself against the outside wall of the ice-cream stand and took a quick peek inside the EMPLOYEES ONLY door. Two aliens were filming a couple of their friends lapping up some blaster sludge from the floor.
The counter boy’s paper hat smoldered off to one side.
One of the aliens on the ground looked up at the cameras, human sludge dripping from his chin, and quipped, “I just love King Kone soft serve!”
The others laughed appreciatively. I slid back and, with my hand cupped over my eyes, stepped into the ladies’ room.
“Judy,” I whispered, putting my finger to my lips to quiet her.
“Daniel!” she screamed.
“I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t do that,” I said and threw her over my shoulder.
“What are you doing?!” she howled as we burst out into the night. I sprinted around the corner of the ice-cream stand and leaped the white plastic fence that separated the shop from the gas station next door.
I rounded the building and carefully lowered Judy to the ground. I forced myself to turn away as she smoothed down her dress, which had hiked up dangerously high on her legs as I carried her.
“What the heck was that all about?” she demanded.
I peered around the corner of the cinderblock wall and saw the aliens ransacking the ladies’ room at the ice-cream stand, searching high and low for whomever had just screamed.
“Um, yeah. Sorry about that,” I said. “I guess I like, um, memorable first dates.”
Chapter 53
“DID YOU HEAR anything when you were in the restroom?” I asked Judy.
“You mean besides you barging in? Hmm. Actually, I did hear a loud noise. Like a car backfiring or something. Totally startled me. What was it? Was the ice-cream stand on fire?”
“Um, back at the diner the other day, you know, when you made me the grilled cheese and pickle-and then out in the parking lot-do you remember seeing anything strange?”