Saturday

June 10th

Savannah opened the back doors of the black autovan. The harsh morning sun beat down on the gravel parking lot of the Heaven’s Heathens’ compound. She could hear the children laughing, screaming, and in general making a happy ruckus on the outdoor playground behind Moonbeams. She climbed up into the back of the van. Savannah had parked as close as possible to Moonbeams as she could. However, no matter how close she put the tub towards the back exit, it always ended up moving forward. She shoved it to the open doors and sighed.

Spike looked around the doors and then came around to lean on them. Her long bangs fell into her eyes. She pushed them back. Savannah was alone, she noted. Spike grabbed the handles on one end of the tub. “Let me help,” she said.

“Thanks,” Savannah replied, picked up her end, and walked out of the van, carefully climbing down.

Spike looked behind her and aimed towards the door of Moonbeams. She started walking backwards. “Don’t you have a shiny new prospect to help you with this?” she asked with a half-smile.

“He’s at the Clarks working on the roof.” Savannah blew hair out of her eyes with one side of her mouth. “That’s more important.” Gideon had been quiet when she’d gone to check on him, make sure he was wearing sunscreen. She’d gotten the impression there was something on his mind.

Spike nodded, accepting the explanation though she’d been trying to tease Savannah.

“How go the books?” Savannah asked.

“You know, Poppy is pretty organized,” Spike said.

Savannah restrained from rolling her eyes. That hadn’t been the point. The point was Spike to help with the books so Poppy could focus more on the pups. “Morning, Poppy,” she said.

Poppy grinned at her and held the door open. “They’re excited,” she said.

Savannah grinned back at her and they walked past her into Moonbeams. “I see you sent them outside to work off their energy.”

“I did,” Poppy said with a slow nod. She closed the door and went to round up the pups.

Spike frowned. “I forgot to check the newsletter, what is today’s special project?” There were an inordinately higher number of pups at the facility in her opinion, and not the under ten crowd. They went into the playroom.

The playroom’s tables had been set out in rows.

“It’s patches week,” Savannah said. “On the table should do it.”

They hefted the tub onto the table and Spike pulled out a little chair and sprawled into it. “Patches?”

Savannah opened the tub and set the lid to the side. She reached in and pulled out bags and bags of cut out felt shapes, containers of tiny beads and rhinestones, things of glue, puff paint and glitter. “Like my headband,” She said and turned her head.

Spike tilted her head. Savannah’s headband had a pair of moonflowers, one in full bloom and one closed in a spiral star pattern. The edges and important lines were done in rhinestones and between the rhinestones were white and light purple beads. “Oh. Nice.”

“They can turn them into headbands, pins, or I’ve got backing and they can make them magnets or stick ‘em on wherever their parents allow.”

Spike grinned. “Or don’t allow.”

Savannah giggled. “That too.”

Violet poked her head in the doorway. “Am I late?” she asked.

“Haven’t started yet.” Savannah looked at her.

Violet bounced in the room and hugged Savannah. Savannah hugged her back. Violet saw her headband. “Is that new?”

“I usually lose my examples,” Savannah said. She’d thought she’d try to keep one this time by keeping it on her. She pulled out another bag filled with already decorated patches done in the various materials and designs. She then pulled out a stack of books filled with various motifs from flowers to knot work to symbols across all different fields and cultures.

“It’s pretty,” Violet said and rifled through the books until she found one with scientific symbols and started flipping through it.

Spike opened the bag of already decorated patches and raised her eyebrows. “Motorcycles, moons, flowers, fire engines, a dog.” She found a square one with a design worked in the middle and turned it until it made sense. “A curved arrow?” She set it down. “An auto. A cross. A baseball. Stars. Skulls. A bat.” Spike made the beaded and felt animal bat fly around with her hand.

Savannah ignored her and started setting things out. “What are you looking for, Vi?” she asked.

“I wanted to make something for Corey if I had a minute,” Violet replied. She flipped through a few more pages. “But I wasn’t sure what. A foaming beaker, the hazardous materials sign? I’d thought I’d give it to him on our first date. Since, I’m sure he’ll give me something.”

“He’s probably going to give you flowers,” Savannah pointed out.

“I want to give him something in return.” Violet sat. “But I can’t decide what. Something sciencey.”

“Maybe a series of patches instead,” Savannah said, came over and hugged Violet quickly. She picked up the glue and started to set it out on the tables.

Violet bit her lip. “You’d be okay with me taking stuff home?” she asked. Normally Savannah didn’t allow that.

“Since it’s for Corey.” Savannah rolled her eyes. She continued to set out the glue and went for the glitter next. She knew how important this relationship was to Violet. She’d been dropping Corey’s name for months now that Savannah had time to think about it.

Spike finished looking through the patches and fiddled with a motorcycle one. “Maybe you could make one for the prospect, Savannah.”

Violet looked up and beamed. “Yeah! That’d be great. You should!”

Savannah’s eyes widened and she stopped setting things out. “I don’t know enough about him to be able to choose a subject. Plus, he’s my prospect, not my boyfriend.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Something military?”

Savannah went for the puff paint to keep from fiddling with her fingers. “He may have an anchor on his butt, but I wouldn’t have the slightest clue what to do with it.”

“He has an anchor on his butt?” Spike asked.

Savannah flushed. “Um.” She glanced at Violet. “Cover your ears.”

Violet pouted and crossed her arms. “No. I want to hear. I’m fourteen now and no longer a baby.”

Spike looked at her. “What if this was about sex?”

Violet’s eyes widened. “She said she wouldn’t!”

“Spike!” Savannah sounded shocked. “I didn’t! He was naked is all.”

“I’ve seen naked men,” Violet defended. She lifted her nose. She was an artiste.

“He has a tattoo on his butt and I think I saw a paw print, an anchor, and a tree.” Savannah pushed her hair behind her ear. She finished setting out the glue and other materials. “Anyways, the anchor seemed to be the military related thing and like I said, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

“You should do the anchor then.” Spike picked up a finished pre-cut out felt anchor covered in rhinestones and silver puff paint. “Like this one, only, more manly.”

Savannah glanced at it. “That doesn’t look remotely like what he has on his ass.”

Spike snickered.

The pups stormed inside, rushing to the bathroom to wash their hands.

Savannah went up on her tiptoes. “Are you going to help, Spike?”

Spike tapped her computer and connected to the ‘net. She started a search, typing on her keypad. “Sure, why not?” she said.

Savannah narrowed her eyes at her. “What are you doing?”

“Looking something up, since you probably won’t.”

Savannah rolled her eyes and turned. She didn’t want to know. Colt dashed into the room and almost plowed into her, wrapping his arms around her. “Do you have cowboy shapes?” he asked.

“Lots of cowboy shapes,” Savannah said and kissed the top of his head. “Go find a seat.”

Colt beamed at her and dashed for a seat. A few teenagers, those older than ten but younger than fourteen, ducked into the room and tried to nonchalantly find chairs. Savannah winked at them. They smiled back at her, then put their heads together and started talking. A few older teenagers stuck their heads in the door. They looked at each other, argued for a few minutes until one approached Savannah.

He pushed his hair out of his eyes and put his hands in his pockets. “Um, Savannah?” he asked.

She tilted her head at him. “Patch day has never been quite this popular,” she said.

“Um, we’re starting a band, and could we sit in and make some for our jackets?” he asked.

“You’re the band,” Savannah said. Then she grinned, reached out and hugged him. “Oh, you’re going to have fun. Sure thing. Since you’re as old or older than Violet, please help one of the smaller ones first, before starting your own.”

The boy looked up and grinned. “We can do that. Thanks. Um, can we talk to you or Violet about the patch? We have ideas and—”

Savannah squeezed his shoulder. “Not a problem.” She waved the others in. “Did you hear that? If you all want to make a patch, I need you to help one of the little ones first. Choose your little one,” she said.

Poppy entered the room and saw the teenagers. “What?” she asked and couldn’t complete the question as she lost her voice in her throat. What was going on? Teenagers, older teenagers at Arts and Crafts Day?

“They’re our new garage band,” Savannah said. “Brand gave his blessing. They’re helping before making patches for the band.”

Poppy widened her eyes and nodded slowly again. The teenagers spread across the room searching out younger siblings or cousins or a favorite pup.

After meeting and greeting, the room quieted down and they all looked at Savannah. She cleared her throat. “Today, we’re going to be making decorated felt patches that you can turn into magnets, pins, headbands, or stickers,” she said. “If you don’t want to make a patch, there is plenty of paper and crayons for drawing, or if you don’t want to do arts and crafts today, you have permission to go play. Please tell Poppy or I when we come to you or raise your hand.”

The children looked at each other and leaned forward.

Savannah picked up a couple of the patches. “These are examples of what you can do with them,” she said. “You can glue several of them together to make a new shape if you’d like. It’s simple.” She picked up a clean piece of felt and went through the process with them step by step using the different materials. “If you need help with what you want to do, always ask,” she finished.

The children reached for the supplies. And though there was more than enough to go around, there was always at least one squabble to be sorted. Someone accidentally upset a box of beads and started crying. Savannah soothed them while Poppy went for a small hand vacuum cleaner she kept for emergencies like this. The pup sniffled and insisted on helping clean up.

Glitter ended up across tables and on the floor. And at least one pup started to cry when their project wasn’t turning out the way they wanted it. Violet intervened, sat down with them and helped them redo it from scratch. Somehow in the bustle, the band did get a chance to snatch conversations with Violet and Savannah.

As the pups finished, Savannah and Poppy tagged their projects with their names, complimented their patch making sure to hug, kiss, or show them affection, and then asked them if they wanted to do another one or go play. Some chose to do a second one and others went to play in a corner of the room. Things settled and several hours passed before the adults realized it. Once everyone appeared finished and the teenagers were deep in their project, they started to clean up.

Spike disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a small broom and a dustpan and a piece of paper. She passed it to Savannah. “Here,” she said.

Savannah looked at it confused. Printed on the paper was a symbol. On a field of navy blue, an anchor curved under a globe, on top of the globe was a bird and behind the bird, was a trident. The anchor was wrapped in gold rope and the rope trailed off to encompass the entire symbol in a circle. “What’s this?”

“The symbol of New York Special Forces,” Spike said. “It was the one division that had the anchor.” Strangely, their navy, or what passed for their navy, didn’t have an anchor in the symbol, but a sailed ship instead. Spike supposed it had something to do with their flag.

Savannah’s brow furrowed.

“In case you want to make him a patch.” Spike poked her.

“That’s far too complicated,” Savannah muttered. She folded it and put it in her kutte pocket.

Spike repressed a grin. She knew her friend would try it though. But she couldn’t resist needling Savannah, “Or Dakota could do it.”

Savannah stiffened and turned back to cleaning. “Of course, Dakota could do it,” she muttered.

Spike knew that Savannah would have to try it now. She worked her face to keep from grinning too broadly and started to sweep up loose glitter.

Violet came over to Savannah. “Do you think Corey will like it?” she asked, holding out a patch with a bubbling beaker on it. The bubbles were done in rhinestones.

“It’s great,” Savannah said. She refused to answer the question about her opinion of Corey’s opinion. She was not falling into that trap. “He does love chemistry.”

Violet bit her lip. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to take this home?”

Savannah put her arm around Violet. “It’s fine. Look, we’ll decide on colors and stuff now, and you can take them home. And if you have any leftovers, I don’t know, make a bracelet or something.” She kissed Violet’s cheek. She knew Violet had a lot of art supplies at her house too.

Violet nodded. “I don’t know why I’m worried. He likes my art stuff. He told me so.”

“Because it’s all new and exciting and this is for him, not ‘art stuff,’” Savannah said. “You’ll do fine, and I’m sure he’ll find it cool.”

Violet sighed. “Is three okay?”

“Three is perfect. Let’s see what you want to try and we’ll choose shapes,” Savannah said and sat down with her.

The teenagers interrupted to thank them and thanked Poppy on the way out. A couple had younger pups clinging to them who had wrung out stern promises that they were to stay and play with them.

Savannah finished helping Violet, looked up at the clock, and winced. She was going to have to hurry if she wanted to get everything she needed to do done before the party tonight. She got up and finished putting the last few things away, shutting down the lid to the tub. “Poppy?” she asked.

“I’ll make sure everyone gets their projects,” Poppy said.

“You’re a lifesaver.” Savannah hugged her and grabbed the tub. “Oh, much lighter now,” she said and headed towards the door. She was going to have to get new supplies.

Spike ran ahead of her and pushed it open.

“See you tonight then,” Spike said.

Savannah grinned. “Yeah. Do try and get something done with the books.”

Spike darted her eyes back and forth. “Yeah, the books,” she said.

Savannah rolled her eyes and loaded the van. Spike would be playing soccer with the pups when she came back, Savannah was sure of it.

She waved at the pups now playing ball in the field and dodging adults setting up grills and putting up lights. She started the van, pulled out, and stopped near Esme. “You need me to get anything else?” she asked through the window.

“You got it all Wednesday!” Esme shouted back and waved at her. “You’ve got things to do, I’m sure.”

Savannah waved back. “I’ll be back with this thing soon then,” she replied and left. She needed to get dressed and then urge on a prospect.

---

Gideon opened the door of his apartment and felt a bit strange. The white walls and the neutral rug with the white cupboards and his dark furniture didn’t really scream anything ‘homey,’ however the place was beginning to feel like ‘home,’ despite his lack of decorations and misgivings about staying in Jasper.

He’d never been much into decorating anyways. As for his misgivings, he was going to see how this party went. If he smelled drugs or anyone looked high or the girls were being passed about like property, he was gone.

He shut the door behind him and shrugged out his kutte, putting it on a set of hooks by the door. He grimaced. He felt sticky and he was sure there was heat radiating off of his skin. He looked over his little domain and sighed in satisfaction that quickly ended when he saw a basket on his kitchen counter.

He shut his eyes and opened them again. The basket didn’t disappear. Damn it. Who had been inside his apartment now? He growled. He went over to the counter, pulling his shirt off, and wiping the back of his neck and his forehead with what dry spots he could find.

There was a note next to the basket.

‘Gideon,

Knox dropped this off when you weren’t here. I made you ice cubes.

Beda’

That answered that question, his landlady who looked like a sweet and lovable grandmother and who he didn’t dare yell at. Weren’t there laws about this?

Gideon raised an eyebrow. Knox, Knox, that named sounded familiar. He looked over at the basket. It rested on top of a leather bound book roughly an inch thick and fourteen inches tall. He picked the basket up off of it and flipped it open. ‘Jasper Book of Law,’ the title page said.

Gideon stared at it and flipped the page. The table of contents declared that the book contained the town constitution, a bill of rights, criminal, civil, penal, building, traffic, health, and safety, and the rest of the codes that were considered necessary in a civilized society, such as zoning.

Gideon picked the book up and flipped to the section on traffic codes and it included traffic safety violations. He flipped back and forth. The section was maybe ten pages long if that. He hefted the book in one hand. This was it? These were all the laws in Jasper.

He flipped back to the front and noticed a page he missed before. It was a transcript of a speech given to the People of Jasper. Gideon skimmed it and got the gist that the town governance was built on not making laws for the sake of making laws and to keep this proud heritage and the number of laws to a minimum that all positions of governing in Jasper were volunteer positions. That they were proud that all the laws of Jasper fit into one book and were determined to keep it that way.

He got to the end of the speech and his eyebrow rose at the name transcribed at the bottom, Steele Barker. Savannah had said her great-great-grandfather had been one of the founders of the town. She had neglected to mention how big of an influence he had wielded.

Gideon’s brow furrowed. He shut the book and stared at it. What the hell? These were all the laws in Jasper? Didn’t laws tend to fill up shelves and shelves of space? He set the book down, so much for the tangled rule of bureaucracy. He turned to the basket.

There was a sealed envelope addressed to him and Gideon opened it first. Inside was a letter, handwritten, to him. He skimmed it again. The letter welcomed him to Jasper, how pleased they were that he decided to stay and become a contributing citizen of the town.

Gideon blinked at that, ‘contributing citizen.’ Okay, he’d never heard it put that way before, but fine. He’d take it.

Enclosed in the basket was a kit they hoped he would find useful and give him an idea of the types of business and services Jasper had to offer, and a copy of the Jasper Book of Law in case he had any questions about what was legal and what wasn’t.

Gideon put the letter on the counter. His brow furrowed. What the fuck? A welcome basket? A handwritten letter?

The basket had a tag on it. He grabbed it and turned it around. The basket, the tag said, was made of pine needles and others like it could be found at one of the shops downtown. He let the tag go. He rifled through the basket quickly. There was an actual paper map of the town, a Jasper mug with a selection of pens from local businesses, candy from Lollytarts, his favorite lollipops.

That worried him a little. Who was paying attention to his buying habits?

There was a toothbrush from the local dentist. There was a business directory he didn’t have time to look through. A list of the current politicians once again stated that they weren’t paid but were volunteers. There was a brochure from Jasper University along with a pennant for the Jasper Bisons. There was the newsletter from the local school district, a calendar of when school was in session and all school events with yet another pennant this time for the ‘Jasper Jackalopes.’ He found a bag of coffee from the local coffee company. There was a bottle of beer and a bottle of soda from the local soda and beer company. Old fashioned stick candy from the general store and a big block of chocolate fudge from the local fudge shop.

There was one explanation that Gideon could come up with. These people were downright crazy.

He opened up one of the block of fudge, knocked off a piece and put it in his mouth. His eyes closed and he grinned. Good though. He shoved the basket away to look through in more detail later. He thought he saw a block of cheese and a bag of jerky. He headed towards the shower, divesting himself of clothes as he went.

He still felt hot and sticky. He tossed the dirty t-shirt and jeans into the hamper and turned the water on cold full blast and jumped under it. He yelped but stayed put until more than his skin chilled. Then he added hot water to warm back up without overheating.

Gideon sighed and knew he didn’t have long to indulge. He soaped up quickly, rinsed off, and grabbed a towel off that little shelf. He scrubbed at his hair and hoped he got all the sawdust chips out of it when he’d washed it. He walked out of his bathroom.

Someone knocked on the door. Gideon looked up and hastily wrapped the towel around his waist. He headed towards it. The lock clicked. The handle turned and Savannah opened the door. “Gideon?” she asked poking her head through the crack.

He lowered his eyelashes and tried not to growl in irritation at her. “It’s my apartment,” he reminded her.

She came inside. “I wasn’t sure if you were here or not,” she said.

He blinked and stared at her. Light from his windows reflected off the silver sequins and glitter on her sleeveless top, and when she turned around, he could see how the tight maroon leather pants hugged her ass. She closed the door and turned back around. She had a flower something or other in her hair. He couldn’t tell what it was. “You look nice,” he said before he had a chance to think about it.

Her brow furrowed and she looked down at her outfit. She looked back up at him. “Thank you,” she said, and her tone was gracious. She didn’t quite believe him. She would accept the compliment in the spirit it was intended.

He struggled. She smelled like peaches and she wore shiny lip-gloss. He was supposed to do something but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what his subconscious was trying to tell him.

He stomped on whatever the urge was and searched for something else to say. “I like your hair thing,” he said. Girls liked it when you complimented on the details of their outfit.

Her brow furrowed again. “My hair,” she trailed off and reached up and touched it. She suddenly giggled. “Oh, I must have forgotten to take it out,” she said. “Oh well.”

Gideon eyed her outfit again, and decided to try and take his cue of what he should be wearing from what she was wearing. If he wore a t-shirt and jeans, which made up most of his wardrobe, he was going to be underdressed. He sighed inwardly and tried to remember what else he had. And then got distracted by the way the shirt clung to her breasts.

She snapped her fingers in front of his nose. “Gideon, we can’t be late to your own party,” she said.

He started and blinked. “Right. I was going to get dressed,” he said and glowered at her. This was at least the second time she’d interrupted his dressing and the second or third time she’d walked in on him naked.

She shifted her weight and fluttered her eyelashes. “Don’t let me keep you.”

He rolled his eyes, turned around, and walked away. His hair still felt like it was dripping. To annoy her or something, he took the towel off and started after his hair and ears again.

Savannah tilted her head. “So,” she asked in what was a casual voice. “Does the anchor mean anything?” She figured the tree and the wolf print were obvious.

“It’s the symbol of my division.” Gideon paused. “Former division,” he muttered.

She walked forward and sat on the couch arm. She crossed her legs and kept her voice in the same idle, ‘I’m interested’ tone. “And what division was that?” She studied the view out of his windows.

He threw the towel on the bed and glanced back at her. She wasn’t looking at him. Damn it. He couldn’t fluster her if she didn’t look. “Special Forces,” he said. “I told Brand.” In fact, it was beginning to feel like he’d told half the club. How did she not know?

“He didn’t tell me,” Savannah said and scowled. She crossed her arms.

Gideon eyed her. That wasn’t his fault. He went looking for his cleanest and best pair of jeans, meaning the ones with the least amount of holes, rips, stains and or bleach spots. He put them on as Savannah continued to talk.

“It would have been nice to know,” she said. “He must have thought it’d be funny.” She tapped her fingers on her arm. “To him.” She finished in a put out tone, “You could have been more useful.”

Gideon figured that responding wouldn’t get him dressed any faster. He found a white t-shirt, put it on over his head and figured the way to feel like he matched Savannah’s level of dressiness was to wear his sole white button down shirt. The main problem was the shirt had long sleeves.

This might put him in something of a crunch tomorrow, but he’d figure something out, if it meant staying up late and doing a load of laundry. He pulled it off the hangar and shrugged into it. He buttoned it up and tucked it into his jeans, closing them up and buckling his belt before he returned to the living room.

Savannah turned her head and hopped off the chair arm. “Here,” she said. She came over and started turning his shirtsleeves up from the cuffs. “Or else, you’re going to die.”

He watched her. She was doing a better job than he would have been able to do. She rolled one side up past the elbow and went and did the other side. “Thanks,” he muttered.

She came around in front of him, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. And before he knew what she was up to, she reached beneath his collar and dragged his tags out with the crook of his finger caressing his neck. He shivered. And all he could smell was her peach perfume. He could almost taste it.

Savannah eyed him critically. With the shirtsleeves rolled up and the top unbuttoned, he looked casual enough to pass muster. She nodded and smiled up at him, her lips shiny and smooth from the lip-gloss.

Something deep in his brain urged him to do something. His fingers twitched as he fought it down, not sure what he was supposed to be doing. Confused and befuddled by the scent of peaches, his favorite scent, he worked to keep his instincts or whatever it was, in check.

Completely unaware of his predicament or what she was doing to him, Savannah glanced out the window and winced. “Can’t be late,” she muttered and turned around. She headed towards the door.

Gideon relaxed and let out a little breath. The urge subsided once she was out of reach. He followed her and grabbed his kutte on the way out the door. And once it closed behind him, his gut started to churn. He was on his way to a party with a guest list of two hundred people who all wanted to meet him. Maybe he’d be better off turning around and hiding back in his apartment.

Savannah stopped at the top of the stairs and smiled at him.

Or not. Gideon put his kutte on and followed her.