“Haven’t you heard? They don’t call them UFOs anymore. They are now referred to as UAPs. Unidentified Anomalous Phenomena.” He looked around to see if anyone might be eavesdropping. “I don’t want people to think I’m losing my marbles, but that is now the official term used by the government.”
Frida smiled at her new companion. She decided he was quite amusing, interesting, and charming. “Please don’t tell me you are a conspiracy enthusiast.”
“What’s that expression—‘Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they’renotout to get you.’”
Frida stifled another guffaw. “Oh for.” Her Minnesota accent kicked in even stronger. “Then tell me which conspiracies ya ascribe to?”
“Not any one in particular.” He made an exaggerated gesture of looking under the palm trees behind their table. “We’re safe,” he said, and smiled broadly.
“Whew. Good to know.” She lowered her voice. “Tell me more about the floozies.”
Henry let out a laugh. “Hot pink nail polish, toes and all.”
“Then how can you tell them apart?” Frida raised her eyebrows.
“Usually, it’s their eyeglasses. Most of them have their initial on the lens, or rhinestones.”
Frida’s face began to hurt from smiling. “Do they flash?”
Henry did a double take and realized she meant the glasses, but he twisted it a bit. “No. But it wouldn’t surprise me if they did.”
Frida immediately caught on to his insinuation and snorted. “You are quite the devil, Henry Pushkin.”
“Nah. Trying to keep him away, actually,” he said, grinning.
Frida stifled a yawn. “Oh, dear. Must be getting late. Even though we’re in the same time zone, I feel like my body clock hasn’t caught up.”
He checked his watch. “It’s almost ten. Shall I walk you back to your place?” He immediately added, “No monkey business, I can promise you.”
She nodded. “Thank you. I’m still trying to get used to the area, and I get turned around a bit.”
“Don’t let them hear you say that; otherwise, they’ll think you’re losing your marbles.”
“Ah, I got another bag of ’em in my bureau drawer.” She winked.
Henry signed the check, another convenience provided by Sunnydale. They would send him a bill at the end of the month, a bill he would pay himself. Henry was not ready to turn everything over to them. He still wanted some control in his life, no matter how little it might be.
The two wandered the concrete path that led to Frida’s duplex. “You haven’t told me anything about the lotharios.”
“We can go over that tomorrow. How about we take the shuttle into town and grab a bite to eat? My treat.”
“That would be lovely. Thank you.”
“Do you have a mobile phone?” he asked.
“I do. Would you like my number?” Frida wasn’t being forward. She was simply being friendly. “Oh, dear. Does that make me a floozie?” she said with a girlish giggle.
“Not even close.” Henry smiled. “You’re not wearing the right shade of polish.”
Frida laughed and gave him her phone number, which he immediately added to his contact list. “I am going to ring you now, so you’ll have my number, as well.”
Frida’s ringtone sounded the first four notes of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. She plucked her phone from her purse and answered it. “Hiya. This is Frida.”
“Hiya, yourself,” Henry answered, then they both ended the call.
“And do let me know when you’re going on your next midnight stroll.”
“I wouldn’t want to wake you.”
