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Tasìa Del Alma-Gris
2.54 Book Two: The Premie Harvest

2.54 Book Two: The Premie Harvest

They leaned in together over the kitchen island. Even Agu, who still held her hand like a bedazzled schoolboy, was eager to take part.

But before she spoke, the words of Silvia, the Serbian assassin, came back to Tasìa.

As you are deep in the cycle now, has your increased tolerance for intimacy been accompanied by a strong propensity for violence?

She certainly could not deny it. In all her years of being a cat burglar, she had only recently acquired something quite new to her experience, a body count.

Tasìa glanced over to Annebél. Her original intention was to sneak up on Ferenzi and his driver and shoot out the tires of their Cadillac. That action could lead to an escalation of violence.

Annebél still retained warm feelings for her former lover. So that also complicated things.

Change of plans.

"Annebél, do you have any bottles of cheap wine?"

The redhead smirked.

"I even have orange juice in the fridge but I don't know how sangrias will help to get us out of here."

Tasìa squinted her right eyelid as she shot Annebél with a finger gun.

"I noticed the Cadillac is not a hybrid synthesis, but a bio-diesel. If I can add a catalyst to its gas tank, it'll break down the fuel to its base molecules, rendering it useless."

Annebél nodded her head. Her near shoulder-length mop of hair flopped along.

"The cheap stuff is in the pantry. The good stuff is racked up in the thermal cellar."

As she grabbed a half-gallon size bottle of red wine, Tasìa did a quick inventory of the pantry. Two bags of white cane sugar. One small bag each of raw and dark brown. Molasses, several varying flour stocks, and many other things. Evidently, Annebél baked a lot of cookies for her baby brother.

She removed one bag of cane sugar, a bottle of distilled vinegar, and a box of baking soda.

Tasìa turned to Annebél.

"Do you have any small jars?"

Annebél leaned her head ambivalently as she approached the pantry. She took a jar containing only two remaining Spanish olives, untwisted the lid, and plucked the pair between her fingers before handing the jar over to Tasìa.

"I see what you're doing," Annebél said. "How much of the wine do you need, half the bottle?"

Tasìa nodded.

Annebél poured the discard portion of the wine into a glass pitcher and she set that down in the refrigerator. She picked up the half-empty bottle of wine of which she shook in a playful display.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Add to this, what? Eight ounces of vinegar? And the bag of sugar, yes?"

"You sound like you have done this before," Tasìa inquired as she rinsed out the jar.

Annebél shrugged, flippantly.

"Who hasn't spiked a rival's gas tank back in their school days?"

Tasìa dissolved a good amount of soda in warm water. She poured until it became a thick paste. With more warm water, she dissolved it once more.

"When doing this," Annebél commented, "you can never have too much soda. Go ahead, thicken and thin it once again." Annebél looked off to the side with a smile on her face. "Ydreäs' old lady. I've seen her pour cola drink concentrate into the pipes to clean out bio-diesel gook build up."

Ydreäs old lady was so scary, even taller and thicker, and much, much meaner than Annebél, that no one hardly ever called her by her name. Too much like a demonic evocation to even risk it.

It's best not to even think it, Tasìa thought in jest. Still, the sentiment rubbed her wrong.

She then recalled seeing Ydreäs with a young woman earlier that evening over at the Daga Chicas. Did she get her old lady's permission to see other people? There were none of the primary and secondary relationship factors, as was common practice in the Quadra, with that couple. The two stayed pretty well monogamous.

Annebél spoke up with an intended snicker in her voice.

"Ydreäs saw you earlier with your paramour du lavatore. I know you are thinking it, just what was going on there between Ydreäs and that other woman. You were thinking Ydreäs was in for a world of hurt.

"But, her old lady got sixty days in the hole when she got caught chain banging a pair of male Correction Officers. Word of the gruesome threesome got back to Ydreäs. So, since then, they have worked it all out. Ydreäs can see whomever she wants now so long as she lets her old lady know what is going on."

"Saoirse, it's Saoirse," Tasìa insisted. "She is behind concrete walls. No reason to avoid that name."

Annebél shook her head and winced at this remark.

Tasìa continued. "You are a fighter in your heart. I know you would like to go a round or two with her."

Annebél screwed her face up in objection.

"How do you know that I haven't?"

"Because you are standing here talking to me and you are not laying dead in a casket."

Annebél sauntered over, and as she peered down, she held Tasìa by the sides of her face.

"Enough of this frilly girl talk," Annebél said as she feigned twisting Tasìa's neck, "tell me what you need me to do."

After their final consultation, Tasìa was ready to make a move. She raised a window on the side of the building that faced the street. Of course, neither the spotter nor Ferenzi could see her from this side.

As Tasìa leaned out, she stopped and she stayed perfectly still before slowly ducking to the side behind a curtain of floral design.

The plump streetwalker happened to be walking up the street wearing knee-high boots, a lengthy salsa dress while humming at a dance rhythm. As she passed by, Tasìa noted the streetwalker's bum was gorgeously draped in voluptuous spread with layers of pearly ruffles.

Tasìa got a gentle shove from behind accompanied by a giggling whisper.

"I saw that nose of yours wrinkle. I can see how an itty bit like you would be jealous of that luscious tush."

"I was only admiring that incredible dress. No need to make everything into more than it is."

Annebél nodded, sarcastically.

"Uh-huh. Yeah. Right. Right. Sorry that I doubted you."

"In a petite size, it would look splendid on me. Bet Raúl would appreciate a tango en ropa formal."

Tasìa returned Annebél's crosséd look as she picked up her goods. She had to carry the wine bottle and the jar in a bag along her shoulder.

She looked back to Annebél as she climbed up to the support panel. With her tongue stuck out and her eyes crossed severely, Tasìa slid through the window and up to the roof.