Free Out of the Box 7 - Sea Change by Robert J. Crane

in a gown that was slit up to the hip and made me wonder if she was trying to get some side-beaver photos taken “accidentally.” She preened a little, stopping when I rolled my eyes. The two photogs who were on the scene had already finished their pictures and moved down the line to the limo pulling in behind us.
    “No press,” Taggert said as he stepped out, buttoning up his jacket. The man was wearing blue jeans and a suit jacket with a button-up shirt that looked like it might have come from Hawaii. Like, sold on the street in Hawaii, not from a retailer. “That’s good for us.”
    “What do you mean, ‘no press’?” I asked, furrowing my brow as I waved at the two photographers who’d just snapped half a hundred pics of Kat. “What were those guys?”
    He smirked—again. “That’s like having no press. You’ll see what I mean tomorrow.”
    “Excuse me, ma’am.” A guy snaked out in a black suit with a white shirt and black tie. “I’m gonna need to search you.”
    “I’m a federal agent on a case,” I said, flashing my badge and keeping my patience under tight wraps. “So, no, you don’t.”
    He looked ready to argue behind black sunglasses, and I saw he had a companion just behind him. It’s night, boys. The “stars” aren’t bright enough to justify that look, you jackasses. “All right,” he finally said, “Ms. Nealon.”
    “Thanks for your cooperation,” I said, giving him a patronizing smile. “You should totally search her, though,” I said, waving to Kat behind me, who probably couldn’t have hid a toothpick in that ensemble. I watched with some satisfaction as a woman dressed exactly like the first Secret Service wannabe gave Kat a very thorough pat-down. Not gonna lie, it did my heart some good to watch it.
    “Hey,” Taggert said with a broad grin as he received a security screening of his own, “you do much more of that and I’m gonna have to charge you.” I rolled my eyes. I had a feeling it usually worked the opposite way.
    I led the way into the party, drawing a scathing look from a guy with a mohawk who had a chain stretching from his earring to his nose piercing. I felt a little strange being judged by Mr. Slightly Unconventional, but whatever, I guess. Maybe my hair was a little askew. Try flying cross-country without a plane and not being a little mussed.
    “Kat!” a woman in a glittering gown squealed. I didn’t recognize her, but that didn’t mean anything. Kat made a squealing noise of her own in reaction, and I let the girl pass without dislocating her arm trying to stop her, which was what I’d been preparing to do when Kat acknowledged her. I hadn’t done much bodyguarding in my time, though I’d certainly acted as protector to people on a few occasions.
    “Guarana,” Kat said, running her hands lightly and briefly over the girl's bare arms before folding them over each other and returning them to covering her nearly-exposed crotch. I frowned, wondering if Guarana was the girl’s given name or if she’d just been a fan of staying caffeinated. “How have you been?”
    “Just terrible,” Guarana said, holding a hand over her heart. “I heard what happened to you earlier. I felt so bad.” She was a terrible actor, too, but Kat’s sadface response made her look like an award-winner by comparison.
    What the hell was wrong with these people?
    “What the hell is wrong with these people?” Scott asked in a whisper, sidling up to me. Kat heard him and tossed us both a cold look, as though I had anything to do with his simple statement. You know, other than thinking the exact same thing at the exact same moment. What? She’s not a telepath, people. She couldn’t have known.
    “Maybe it’s just her and her friend,” I said. I glanced at Taggert. “And him.”
    “Kat!” Another voice called, this one belonging to a guy in a tuxedo that was so new-style I barely recognized it as a tux. “I heard about what happened, and I am so