Making Plans For Nigel

Part Four

Face The Friends of Mister Cairo
Motivation: Friends of Mr Cairo, by Vangelis

Think, Sydney, think! She hated what this thing with Karen and Nigel was reducing her to. Having cancelled her own plans for her last two weeks of freedom before college started up, she was seriously questioning her sanity, let alone Nigel's. A day later and here she was, sipping on an iced tea in a quaint little seaside shanty, dressed like one of the locals in an ankle length wraparound sarong of various colours, and a sexy matching halter top. Suffice it to say she couldn’t just knock on the door and walk in. No, she needed a rock-solid reason for crashing their little party, but what? It had to be something that Nigel would readily believe, something realistic, and her eyes suddenly widened with delight… What she needed was a relic hunt!

If there was anything Nigel couldn’t resist any more, it was the thrill of the hunt. He expected to accompany her now, unlike in the beginning, where she had to almost always drag him kicking and screaming. Actually, tying him up and stuffing him in her carry-on would have been a lot easier in some of those instances. Unfortunately, there was none to be had here. Pondering this for a moment, and only a moment, Sydney came to her good senses before going officially crazy and just making one up.

Catalina was a charming place, and this was Sydney’s first trip to the Island. Avalon was only the first stop of many here, and she would definitely have to check out the other must-see sites before leaving. The Island had a rich history filled with smugglers, big bands and movie sets… She tapped her fingernails, one, two, three, and four in staccato rhythm against the table again and again, thinking. It had to be within the realm of probability. The smuggling angle sounded most favourable to her, with all the excitement and romance attached to it, and she put together a killer plan.

Going over it one more time for accuracy, she gradually came up with a suitable idea that would likely fool Nigel long enough to quash what ever he had going on with Karen, and allow her a chance to tell him she’d been wrong. Well, okay, maybe not go that far, but certainly a nonchalant invitation to dinner would at least be accepted, then they could finally talk. She pondered her mock-up relic hunt from all angles and considered all its factors. Nigel would need research material, facts and figures, and it had better look genuine. He was a sharp cookie, and not easy to put one over on in this area. The next hour of her time was well spent ferreting out all the things she would need to execute her perfect plan.

What if one of the skippers of an 1820’s merchant ship, fed up to his eyeballs with the staggering tariffs being charged by the local Mexican government at the time, decided to pull into one of the secluded coves and stash it, or better yet, disguise it first? He would have to be carrying something of great value, as the tariffs tended to be marked up to almost one hundred percent of the actual value of your hold. Gold bullion was a suitable choice. She casually surveyed her surroundings, feeling pretty good with the idea she’d come up with so far. Glancing at her watch she sighed… Okay, it’s only eight thirty in the morning. It was doubtful Nigel had even attempted to pull his lazy carcass out of the sack yet, and she scowled at the thought he might even have company…

Digging around her purse, she removed her cell phone and placed another call. “Hi, would you please patch me through to a Mister Nigel Bailey’s room? Thank you.”

Nigel was about to meet the very fictional Mister Cairo, gold smuggler extraordinaire, and come face to face with all of his friends....

Part Five

Head Games
Motivation: Head Games, by Foreigner

Sleep gradually ebbed away and he stretched his arms out high above his head, stirring beneath her. The unfamiliar heaviness across his chest was instantly explained the moment he inhaled the pleasant scent of her subtle perfume. Oh, that’s right, he thought, remembering their first night in their little cottage. Rather than be startled by her presence, he was amused by it, even gratified by it. What didn’t amuse him, however, was the light blonde hair that had tangled into a rat’s nest just under his chin, and he found himself picking bits of it from his mouth… ick, hairspray.

It amazed Nigel how much that he and Karen shared in common. They spent most of the evening in the first night and watched some satellite television, too tired to enjoy much else. He’d been feeling a little homesick, so she found a channel for him that ran nothing but British comedy all night long.

“Oh my God Nigel, is that Prince Regent guy for REAL?” she’d howled… Karen had never seen The Black Adder before. “He’s such a flaming wuss! It’s no wonder that Black Adder guy is always trying to screw him over! Look, the guy is wearing a big ol’ girlie wig!”

“Well, that’s the French for you…” he replied, more entertained by her outbursts than the show itself.

Glancing to the coffee table, he at once recalled the reason for the mild throbbing at his temples… at least eight bottles of American beer lay scattered in every direction, all empty. He couldn’t remember who turned off the TV. It must have been Karen, he was certain, because she was lying right on top of him, every inch of her delightfully ample figure pressed intimately against him in sweet slumber. He glanced down at her, almost laughing, but trying really hard not to. She had racoon eyes, her make-up smudged ever so slightly, and that sensuous, pouting mouth was slightly agape, a small hint of drool sliding from one side, oh, and half dressed. Then there was the matter of her snoring… Well, maybe it hadn’t been that bad, and had to at least admit he could live with that.

Studying further, he realised she really was incredibly sweet, for all her shortcomings. She annoyed the hell out of him regularly, but that wasn’t such a big deal. Bringing up his free hand, he threaded his fingers through her soft hair, contemplating life and how strangely it could twist things. It felt good to touch someone like this, to have her this close, and he closed his eyes relishing in the moment. All of his senses consumed Karen’s sleeping form, he was lonely, and that was painfully obvious to him. It didn’t matter that she was oblivious to what he was thinking, it was just as well…

Nigel must have nodded off back to sleep. Karen’s movements literally him jarred him awake as his cell phone began to cry out for somebody’s attention.

“Damn that phone!” she muttered, still half asleep and not too terribly happy for the intrusion. It continued to ring, ring, ring, and she determinedly began to hunt it down, her goal to kill it.

“Oh God Karen, it, it’s in my jacket…” he muttered, and turned over on his side, crossing his arms over his chest to rest some more. “Can you get it?”

He listened to her fumbling around when finally she yanked it from his wind-breaker. Falling back to the couch, she pressed talk. “Uh, Nigel’s jacket…” she quietly mumbled, teetering slowly towards consciousness in her seat. Her voice was so sleepy-sounding, and she was barely audible.

“Uh, yeah… he’s here.” She held the phone over to him. “It’s Sydney.”

Nigel’s eyes popped open and he jumped into a sitting position, shaking his head no, no, no and waving a hand in her face. She gave him a questioning, almost annoyed look and shoved the phone in his face, motioning for him to 'take it'!

“No…” He whispered, "Tell her I’m in the shower... Something!”

Karen just rolled her eyes and sighed, heavily, giving him that LOOK. The one she had reserved for him when she thought he was being a total moron. “Syd, he’s just in the shower. Can you call back in say, five? Thanks, okay, bye.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t you dare thank me, Nigel Bailey, I hate lying to someone who knows it! Why didn’t you just talk to her?” The look on Karen’s face was one of utter disbelief.

“I can’t talk to her! Besides, why should I? How long did I literally beg her to talk and she waved me off? No, forget it. Whatever it is, she can damn well wait until I come back to work!”

The phone started to ring again, and without thinking, Nigel answered.

>“Nigel, short shower huh?”

His heart sank. He could tell by the tone of her voice that she knew she’d been lied to. The next ten minutes of their conversation was a contest of wills. One minute he was yelling at her, the next he was silent, and holding the phone away from his ear while she shouted right back. Nothing was accomplished. She was not impressed that they had turned the ringer for the room phone off. It took her almost ten minutes to track down his new cell phone number.

“You’re what?”

Karen’s brows knitted together, wondering what she was saying to poor Nigel that had him so upset.

“NO! Listen, I am on my time Sydney, I’m not at work… No. I don’t care what it is, I am not even going to entertain it. No, Syd… no… don’t you dare!” She hung up on him. He happened to glance out the window, seeing his problem was a lot closer at hand than he had originally anticipated. “Dear God…” Time to panic.

“What did she say, Nigel?” Karen was on pins and needles, sitting there clad only in her underwear and one of HIS button-down shirts with the sleeves rolled up.

“Just go along with me, okay?” He grabbed her by the arm and in a rush of movement had her pinned firmly against the wall with his body, one hand at the side of her head and the other hooked onto her hip. The look of shock on her face was mixed with that of mild delight. “Sydney’s going to walk through that door any second, the moment you hear the handle turn, please, go along with me… please!”

Karen didn’t bother waiting for that. She circled her arms around his neck and pulled him flush against her. He felt her full lips parting against his, and she quite plainly, devoured him.

Part Six

Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'
Motivation: Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin', by Journey

Sydney walked in on what looked like a full blown WWF match, in her opinion, and stared at them. This is NOT real. That was what her brain was telling her, but Sydney’s eyes knew better.

Karen had her slinky arms wrapped around Nigel like a black widow spider, her hands spiking recklessly through his thick, tawny mop of hair. He, in return, was pressed hard against her body, his hands haphazardly creeping ever so swiftly along her sides and up under her… Oh good grief! Sydney wondered how they still managed to breathe. He proceeded to push his left leg between her bare thighs, and in a cheeky move, grabbed her backside and roughly picked her right up off the floor! She responded to this by wrapping her gangly legs tightly around his slender hips. His was nose now buried someplace under that heavy, golden mane of soft, wavy hair cascading across her milky white shoulders, nuzzling the back of her neck like he was starving!

When Karen let go of a satisfied, sultry moan, that was it. “Oh, Nige…yeah, that’s it…” She rasped.

Stiffly, to avoid looking like an idiot, Sydney cleared her throat before announcing her presence. To catch them in such a state of heated passion really threw Sydney for a loop. She could feel her cheeks flush, a little embarrassed and a lot jealous, sorry to have barged in the way she did. “I can see why you were too busy to talk to me, Nige… Do you want to hear about this hunt, or not?”

They broke apart at once, both feigning surprise, and Sydney noticed right away the all consumed effect her swank, not-so-dumb secretary had on her humbled teaching assistant. His brown hair playfully tumbled low over his brow, all the buttons of his shirt were plucked loose and his trousers clung loosely around his hips, threatening to drop to his ankles any moment! Not to mention he should have had bruises on his lips with the force in which she was kissing him...

“Nice underwear.” Sydney purred with cool sarcasm, pointing out the tuft of material from a pair of baby blue boxers poking out from his open fly. What else could she say? She had to do something to camouflage the hurt she was feeling."Down periscope."

Nigel’s eyes darted down below, and fumbling, quickly pulled himself together, sort of. “Sydney! What’s the meaning of this?” He demanded, frantically buttoning his shirt and tucking it into his pants.

“I told you I was going to be here shortly, it isn’t my fault you had a momentary lapse of reason. Now, if you two are quite finished.” She glanced after Karen, who had silently slipped into the bathroom, her clothes in her hands. “We have a ton of work to do.”

“And I told you no. What don’t you understand about that?” he snapped at her with a curt undertone to his voice, sounding like he really did mean business this time. “You don’t own me, Sydney. Please leave.”

If Sydney didn’t know any better, she would have sworn he meant that. Her almond eyes narrowed, and she scrupulously studied his very offended body language. He was British, and they did that offended thing like no one else on earth.

Nigel’s eyes were dark and murky, and he stood facing her with his hands firmly planted on his hips, leaning forward ever so slightly. From his disheveled appearance, she gathered she had caught them quite off guard, and it looked like if she had come any later they would most certainly have completed their transaction in a heartbeat. At this point she didn’t know whether or not to take this little farce seriously, but she wasn’t about to let him think she cared. Pulling her research from her bag, she promptly deposited it on the table in front of him.

“This is everything on the gold smuggler’s last run. I was hoping you would go over it and tell me what you think.” She sat down without being invited to do so and cocked her head to one side, daring him to tell her to leave a second time. Truthfully, if he did, she would respect that and go, but she didn’t think that would be an issue again. “I need your help with this Nigel, please. After we locate it I promise I’ll go away and leave you and Karen in peace,” she explained, and handed him her fact sheet.

“Mister Cairo???” Reluctantly, Nigel picked up the documents and skimmed over them, each line he read drawing him into this thing a lot closer than he wanted to be. Sydney could see that familiar sparkle return to his eyes as he turned page after page, and she knew by the third one he was hooked.

“Sydney… This, this is great!” he remarked, and lifted his fascinated gaze to hers. “From what this says, a Mister Cairo hired a ship called The Golden Goose to smuggle over a million dollars worth of gold bullion into the United States! But instead of smuggling it in, he hid it, and then died before he could collect it!”

“That’s right.”

“Wait a minute…” His smile suddenly faded. “This is really cut and dried, Syd. You don’t need me for this. There’s nothing to decipher. What you need is a recovery crew.”

“I do need you!” she insisted, and jumped out of her seat. Her face fell, but she recovered fast before fumbling the ball altogether. “Uh, I mean that it would be grossly unfair of me not to include you in something that has the potential to be so big. You’re part of my team.” Karen, who had now emerged from the bathroom refreshed and dressed, distracted her attention. “I need the both of you.”