Prom Night
The single most important event in the life of a girl in high school. The one night she knew she would get to be the fairy princess she always wanted to be when she was little. The music, the dancing, the thirty minute lines to get a precious photograph taken. Lisa Jensen was no different.
Her nana had taken her out shopping for that perfect dress, a floor length gown with sweeping snowy white skirts trimmed in soft rose pink. The wide collar wrapped around her shoulders, leaving the tops bare revealing a tan from long hours of soccer practice out in the sun. Her long blond hair had been swept up into a smooth twist at the back of her head, two carefully curled bangs left free to frame her heart shaped face. Uncle Carlos had helped her put the dark eyeliner around her blue eyes, and tiny hints of eye shadow and blush making her face seem to glow. The first time he'd taught her anything about makeup, she had asked if one of his girlfriends had taught him. The quiet man had chuckled and pointed out that, as the only boy among six sisters growing up, he learned many things that would amaze her.
Lisa paced the length of the living room carefully, Uncle Jake had steered her date, and boyfriend of two weeks into the kitchen where he was no doubt explaining exactly how many different ways he could ruin the seventeen year old boy's life if he did anything to hurt his baby girl. Sitting on the couch reading a gun magazine was Uncle Carlos. The tall Spaniard had only given Uncle Jake a mildly amused glance as the taller man marched Danny into the kitchen for 'The Talk'.
Lisa glanced down at the coffee table where the matching purse to her gown lay. Lined up next to it was her cellphone, wallet which had the money and orders for her prom photos, house keys and a tube of the lipstick she was wearing. There was also a slim canister of mace, and a Benchmade folding knife with a slim three and a half inch blade, the shining steel grip inlaid with mother of pear and tiny gold flecks. It had been very expensive, custom made. Most her her girlfriends got a shopping trip or even their first car for their sixteenth birthday. Lisa Jensen had been gifted with her very own butterfly knife. Uncle Carlos had given it to her after Mrs. Porteous had gone inside the house to get a refill of drinks for her party, along with instructions to use it whenever she needed.
Uncle Jake gave her a custom built laptop, fully loaded up with the newest OS and a copy of Fallout 3 with all of the expansion packs.
After about ten minutes, Uncle Jake led a slightly green looking Danny from the kitchen and hugged her tightly. “If you have any problems, call us.” He told her firmly.
She raised an eyebrow at him but hugged him back. “I will Uncle Jake. I'd say don't worry but you're going to anyway.”
“Damn straight I will.” He replied. He sent Danny a heated glare. “And you, remember what I said. No funny business.”
Lisa sighed. “Uncle Jake, if you had your way I would have an armed escort everywhere.”
“Of course I would, you're my baby girl.” He smiled broadly at her.
Lisa smiled before turned to grab her purse from the table, only to find Uncle Carlos had already scooped it up and packed all of the items on the coffee table into it. He handed it to her and hugged her briefly before stepping back.
The princess took her prince charming (who shivered slightly) by the hand and led him to the waiting carriage; an black suburban being lent to her by her grandmother for the evening, in place of the pickup truck she normally drove.
---
“So, what did you scare him with?” Cougar asked as the car pulled slowly out of the driveway.
“Well, I thought about threating him with you for a minute there.” Jensen admitted. The other man snorted with laughter at that, “But then I realized how much better it would be, to just explain to him how good Lisa is with that knife you gave her.”
“She'd better be good,” Cougar grunted, “You taught her.”
“Lots of practice staying away from Roque's death threats. You dodge his knives long enough, you learn a few things.” The comment was light, the sting from remembering the dead man's betrayal faded with the years.
“Of course,” Jensen continued, throwing an arm around the smaller man's shoulders and tugging him toward the stairs, “I know you probably packed a Glock and extra ammo under the driver seat.”
The Spaniard's wicked grin was all the answer he needed.