He nods, recovering from my revelation. “So, Tara,” he says as we move up in the line. “Will you tell me how you learned to fight like that?”
“You’re an air marshal,” I say. He nods. “How did you learn?”
“Started taking karate when I was a kid, then went into the Air Force after college—I know, weird but how I did it—got out seven years later, and went into the marshals. I like to travel and I like to fly.”
“I did not take karate, nor did I join the Air Force. I’m actually a retired dog walker.”
Petey laughs. “I didn’t know that profession came with a pension.”
“It doesn’t, I just saved.” I grin up at him and he laughs.
“So, a retired dog walker who takes out terrorists; you’re pretty interesting.”
We move up another person in line. Four to go…not that I’m counting.
“What do you think those guys planned on doing?” I ask.
“Diverting the plane to West Papua as publicity for their cause.”
“I’m embarrassed to say I know nothing about it,” I admit.
“Not many Americans do,” he answers.
“Do you?”
“Yes,” he says without elaboration.
“Want to fill me in?”
“You want to know about the cause of the terrorists?”
“Yeah, why not? Know thy enemy, right? Isn’t that why you know about it?”
“But I’m an air marshal who often works in this region and you’re a retired dog walker.” He is grinning down at me like he still wants to buy me that drink even though I’m pregnant with another man’s baby.
We move up another person and I start to build my order in my mind. “I guess you’re right,” I say. “Are you getting anything?”
“Tara isn’t your real name,” Petey guesses.
I glance over at him. “You calling me a liar?”
He laughs. “No, I’m…” He wets his lips, looking at me like I’m a large order of fries. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“I hear that a lot. Most people don’t get out of the dog walking game so early. And you never know,” I shrug. “They might drag me back in.”
He laughs. “Can I tell you my theory?”
“On what?” I ask as we get one person closer to the counter.
“On who you really are.”
“If you can do it before I order,” I answer.
“You’re a member of Joyful Justice.”
I look up at him, all confusion. “A member of what?”
“You’ve never heard of Joyful Justice?” he asks, his voice clearly indicating that he thinks I’m lying.
“Sorry…kind of a stupid name, isn’t it?” His eyes narrow because he can hear the sincerity in my voice. That name—a play on my birth name Joy Humbolt—is dumb. I don’t know who came up with it but if they’d asked me it would have been a hard no. Joyful Justice…idiotic.
We are next in line now and I am ready. “So you’re just on vacation,” Petey says, the statement sounding almost like a question. “Just a normal tourist with a huge, highly disciplined dog who’s trained in Inviting Fire.”
“Yeah, keep acting like I’m a liar and this relationship will fall apart pretty fast.”
He laughs. “I like that you’re calling it a relationship.”
“Friends who take out terrorists together, stay together, am I right?”
He laughs again and then it’s my turn to order. And I do so, with abandon, marveling how fast food menus can be the same halfway around the world. Petey orders an equally insane amount of food. We wait in silence and then take our crowded trays to the small eating area. Luisa waits in the hall, talking on her phone and pacing.
Petey and I sit across from each other and I begin to shovel fries into my mouth like this is an eating contest that I intend to win.
“Can I get your number?” Petey asks. I choke, my eyes tearing, and cough. “Jeez,” he smiles. “Women don’t usually have that reaction.”
I take a sip of my water. “I’m sure you’re quite the charmer,” I say. “And you’re very handsome; that superman jaw works for you.”
He grins.
