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Authors: Quincy J. Allen
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steam-powered milling machine for the baker?”
Skeeter’s back stiffened, and she crossed her arms. “Done last week,” she spat.
“Oh.” Strike one, he thought. “What about that electric churn for Mrs. Pots over at the dairy?”
“Where the hell have you been, Jake?” She glared at his back. “Mrs. Pots picked that up three days ago.”
“Oh,” he said even more mutely. Strike two.
“The Willaker’s cool—”
“Done, Jake,” she cut in, raising an eyebrow.
Strike three.
Jake hated being out of options. He would just have to take the moral high ground. It didn’t sit well with him, though. It brushed up way too close to hypocrisy for his comfort.
“I ain’t got no jobs coming due, Jake.” Skeeter yanked off her grimwig and threw it onto the floor. “Ya gotta let me go, damn it!” Her long blond braid unfurled and snaked down her back. “I ain’t never seen San Francisco!” Her eyes had gone from green to gray. Filled with frustration, they bored into Jake’s back as he stared out the kitchen window. “Hell, I ain’t even seen the damn ocean,” she added, dejected.
“What’d I tell you about that mouth of yours, Skeeter?” Jake asked calmly. She could be feisty, to be sure, but Jake had pretty much taken on the job of surrogate father, and there were a few subjects he wouldn’t budge on. Her propensity for swearing was one of them.
“Sorry, sir,” she mumbled, only slightly mollified. She bent over and picked up her grimwig, placing it back on her head without curling up the braid. “I just—”
Jake finally turned to face her. Her apologetic tone was the opening he needed. “I know, Skeeter … and I’m sorry. I just can’t take a sixteen-year-old girl into Chinatown, especially not when there could be a whole mess of Chinese assassins waiting for us … no matter how smart you are,” he added gently.
“But you know I can take care of myself!” she snapped, her tone almost desperate. “Hell, it was me that helped you put Moondog Cullins out of everyone’s misery. You and Cole woulda’ been shit outta luck without me.”
“Language!” Jake’s reprimand had an edge to it this time.
“Sorry, sir,” Skeeter said again, sounding almost like she meant it.
“She’s got you there, Jake,” Cole finally chimed in, his chair squeaking as he leaned forward. “We never would have captured Ratface without her, and without him Moondog wouldn’t have come to town.”
Jake turned and gave Cole an annoyed scowl. “I thought you were on my side.”
“I am, Jake. I’m just sayin’ that she’s right. You can’t dismiss her like that. Hell, she’s smarter than the two of us put together.”
Jake raised an eyebrow that said, Don’t help me if you ain’t gonna help me.
“Well,” Cole said apologetically, “you know what I mean.” His voice trailed off, and he bit his lips together to keep them from flapping.
Jake looked down at Skeeter, noting the genuinely disappointed look on her face. She looked up at him with those baby-doe eyes, green once again and on the brink of tears. She even threw in a sniffle for good measure. He hated when she did that. He’d caved in to the routine far too often. He squatted down and put his hands on her shoulders, looking at her softly with his good eye.
“I ain’t saying you’re not smart, Skeeter, and you did bail us outta that fiasco with Moondog. That’s not what this is about. Look, Chinatown just ain’t a place for kids, especially not girls . One look at that braid of yours and the slavers would have you strung out on opium and whoring before you could say ‘ excuse me .’” Jake looked deep into Skeeter’s eyes, trying his best to make his point without getting frustrated. “And then I’d have to track them down, and there’d be all the shooting and the killing … followed by a high-tail-it out of San Fran with a bunch of assassins and slavers on our backs. We’re supposed to be going to help someone
Skeeter’s back stiffened, and she crossed her arms. “Done last week,” she spat.
“Oh.” Strike one, he thought. “What about that electric churn for Mrs. Pots over at the dairy?”
“Where the hell have you been, Jake?” She glared at his back. “Mrs. Pots picked that up three days ago.”
“Oh,” he said even more mutely. Strike two.
“The Willaker’s cool—”
“Done, Jake,” she cut in, raising an eyebrow.
Strike three.
Jake hated being out of options. He would just have to take the moral high ground. It didn’t sit well with him, though. It brushed up way too close to hypocrisy for his comfort.
“I ain’t got no jobs coming due, Jake.” Skeeter yanked off her grimwig and threw it onto the floor. “Ya gotta let me go, damn it!” Her long blond braid unfurled and snaked down her back. “I ain’t never seen San Francisco!” Her eyes had gone from green to gray. Filled with frustration, they bored into Jake’s back as he stared out the kitchen window. “Hell, I ain’t even seen the damn ocean,” she added, dejected.
“What’d I tell you about that mouth of yours, Skeeter?” Jake asked calmly. She could be feisty, to be sure, but Jake had pretty much taken on the job of surrogate father, and there were a few subjects he wouldn’t budge on. Her propensity for swearing was one of them.
“Sorry, sir,” she mumbled, only slightly mollified. She bent over and picked up her grimwig, placing it back on her head without curling up the braid. “I just—”
Jake finally turned to face her. Her apologetic tone was the opening he needed. “I know, Skeeter … and I’m sorry. I just can’t take a sixteen-year-old girl into Chinatown, especially not when there could be a whole mess of Chinese assassins waiting for us … no matter how smart you are,” he added gently.
“But you know I can take care of myself!” she snapped, her tone almost desperate. “Hell, it was me that helped you put Moondog Cullins out of everyone’s misery. You and Cole woulda’ been shit outta luck without me.”
“Language!” Jake’s reprimand had an edge to it this time.
“Sorry, sir,” Skeeter said again, sounding almost like she meant it.
“She’s got you there, Jake,” Cole finally chimed in, his chair squeaking as he leaned forward. “We never would have captured Ratface without her, and without him Moondog wouldn’t have come to town.”
Jake turned and gave Cole an annoyed scowl. “I thought you were on my side.”
“I am, Jake. I’m just sayin’ that she’s right. You can’t dismiss her like that. Hell, she’s smarter than the two of us put together.”
Jake raised an eyebrow that said, Don’t help me if you ain’t gonna help me.
“Well,” Cole said apologetically, “you know what I mean.” His voice trailed off, and he bit his lips together to keep them from flapping.
Jake looked down at Skeeter, noting the genuinely disappointed look on her face. She looked up at him with those baby-doe eyes, green once again and on the brink of tears. She even threw in a sniffle for good measure. He hated when she did that. He’d caved in to the routine far too often. He squatted down and put his hands on her shoulders, looking at her softly with his good eye.
“I ain’t saying you’re not smart, Skeeter, and you did bail us outta that fiasco with Moondog. That’s not what this is about. Look, Chinatown just ain’t a place for kids, especially not girls . One look at that braid of yours and the slavers would have you strung out on opium and whoring before you could say ‘ excuse me .’” Jake looked deep into Skeeter’s eyes, trying his best to make his point without getting frustrated. “And then I’d have to track them down, and there’d be all the shooting and the killing … followed by a high-tail-it out of San Fran with a bunch of assassins and slavers on our backs. We’re supposed to be going to help someone
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