S.O.S. Perk (S.O.S. #6)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Sloane didn’t know what she expected when she walked through the door of Perk’s childhood home, but it wasn’t the slightly bemused welcome she received. Perk had let his family know he was bringing a friend for Christmas, but they still seemed…taken aback at seeing her.

Odd.

And nothing in Sloane’s experience had prepared her for the larger-than-life Perkins’ family.

And when she said larger, she meant l arger .

Perk was a smidge over six feet tall. His father? An inch taller. His brothers? Both easily six-four. And his mother was no slouch, coming in at five-eleven if Sloane was figuring right. Sloane felt downright petite amongst the land of giants until she met Perk’s brothers’ wives. Both were mere mortals like she was. One seemed very nice.

Introductions were awkward at best. Sloane had thought maybe Perk had been exaggerating his family’s displeasure with his life’s trajectory, but by the time she’d shaken hands all around, Sloane knew better.

Both Perk’s parents and one brother managed to slip in a few mildly denigrating quips about his “youthfulness” and his “play job” as they greeted Perk.

Because of that, Sloane reverted pretty quickly to her Agent Vessers demeanor. She wasn’t going to give these people a degree of warmth if they weren’t going to treat Perk like a complete person.

“Breakfast is just about ready,” Mrs. Perkins informed them after their jackets and boots had been shed in the front hallway of the family’s traditional colonial. The woman shepherded them into a large, bright kitchen, which held a huge round table decorated exquisitely for company. It was very… “House Beautiful”.

“Thank you, Sloane, for making sure my baby arrived here on time,” Mrs. Perkins twittered. “I’m sure it was because of you. Our Henry if often late because he barely knows how to keep track of time.”

Seriously ?

“That’s funny,” Sloane responded, dead-panned. “On the job, he often coordinates things down to seconds to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

“Oh? You work with Henry?” Mr. Perkins asked with raised brows. “I thought he was involved with some rescue place.”

Sloane narrowed her eyes. “He is. And that’s how we met.” Was the man about to be misogynistic; suggesting that a female couldn’t be an operative?

“Well, you look like a woman who takes life seriously, so you must play a different role in the company than he does.”

Sloane wouldn’t immediately correct him that she didn’t work for SOS, but she had to bite back her locked and loaded, snappy response, which was to ask why the man’s head was so far up his ass when it came to his son. For Perk’s sake, however, she’d play nicely for a while.

Perk must have felt how conflicted she was, because he took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. She gave him the slightest of nods in response.

“I assure you, sir,” she managed, “ Henry takes his job with the utmost gravity.” It was going to take some getting used to, using Perk’s given name.

“Right.” The oldest brother, Steve Jr., pranced over and gave Perk noogies. Actual noogies . “Saving tiny kitties from trees, and helping little old ladies who’ve misplaced their purses is very important.”

Sloane was having trouble hanging onto her shit. These people were clueless.

“Now Steve…,” Mrs. Perkins intervened.

Good. Maybe the family matriarch was about to tell the dickheads to stand down.

“…you know Henry just hasn’t found himself yet. Not like you and Dirk have. But he’s young. Give him a few more years. He’ll come around.”

Sloane sent a questioning glare Perk’s way, and he just shrugged. Why wasn’t he defending himself? Seeing the question in her eyes, he sidled up and bent to whisper in her ear. “I tried for a bunch of years. It’s not worth it.”

“Oh, yes it is,” she said out loud.

“It is what?” Mr. Perkins questioned, picking up a pipe which he began to pack with Borkum Riff.

Was he really going to smoke it inside? While breakfast was set to go on the table? Damn , this was like stepping back into the dark ages.

Sloane had no problem speaking her mind. Especially now that she’d been asked a direct question. “ It is worth pointing out that your son is twenty-eight years old. He’s been in the military, has worked for your local police department, and is currently an agent with one of the most renowned search and rescue firms on the east coast.”

“Yes, dear,” Mrs. Perkins spoke up as she plated sausages. “We’re aware that he’s flitted from job to job and hasn’t been able to settle on one path, but we’re hopeful we can convince him to come to work for my husband’s firm. A new position has just opened up for a junior member,” she stated hopefully.

“Which means he’ll have to do grunt work for a while if he takes it, but he’ll catch on,” Dirk interjected. “He’s always been smart.”

Well, at least someone was saying something nice about Perk.

Sloane once again bit her tongue, approaching things from a different angle as they all sat down for breakfast. “Did you know that Perk is currently involved with a very tricky case?”

She caught their attention. Sort of.

“He’s not only going undercover to help smoke out a dangerous cyber-criminal, he recently rescued a girl who the perps had kidnapped.” Sloane was vague on purpose so as not to compromise the investigation.

“Oh?” This came from one of the wives. Steve’s other half if Sloane remembered correctly. The woman had a sour look on her face. “How come it wasn’t in the news?” she asked skeptically.

“It’s an ongoing investigation,” Perk answered evenly while shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth. “Nothing is being made available to the public yet.”

“But you know about it,” the woman continued, pointing her fork at Sloane. “Are you the secretary at his office?” She laid a proprietary hand on her husband’s arm. “Steve asked if I wanted to answer phones for him, but it sounded like such a bore, of course I said no. I enjoy working with my friends to support a few of our local charities,” she boasted.

Sloane translated that vague occupation to mean “ladies who lunch”.

Bitsy, or Buffy, or whatever her name was, clearly wouldn’t know a real job if it smacked her in the face.

Sloane bristled. She’d never had any problem with women who chose to stay at home and pursue their passions, but she doubted if this woman had a true fervor for anything except living large.

“Our jobs do intersect,” was all the answer Sloane gave. Not that it would hurt anything if she were to mention her true occupation, but she wanted to see what else these oblivious individuals had to say before she dumped that bit of intel on them.

“So, what do you think, Henry?” His father tamped out his pipe on an ashtray beside his breakfast plate, then dug in to the plethora of food his wife had piled on his plate. “You ready to settle down and take a job with my company?”

It was like Sloane had never even told them about Perk’s current case and how valuable he was. Unbelievable .

“Dad. I’ve told you before. I’m perfectly happy in Boston. I’m with a bunch of great, dedicated people, and we’re really making a difference.”

“Finding dead-beat husbands,” Steve snorted. “Yeah. That sounds like a career.”

“I looked into SOS,” Dirk spoke up, seemingly innocuously.

“You did?” Perk smiled at his sibling, and Sloane’s heart bled. Perk looked excited that at least one of his family had taken an interest in what Perk had been doing. Sloane hoped Dirk didn’t let him down. If he did, she’d have to bring out her big guns.

“Yeah. After I talked to you this summer, you made me think that what you did wasn’t just a time-filler. I was impressed at what I found.” Dirk blinked around at his family as if daring them to rebut him. “It’s the real deal, and your team has a lot of top-notch credentials.”

Yeah . He would have seen all the military and government experience the members brought to the table.

Perk nodded happily. “I was grateful to Del for giving me the opportunity to join them, and I haven’t regretted a single moment. We’re busy all the time, and with such a diversity in cases, I never lack for stimulation.”

“Did you really rescue a kidnap victim?” This came from Dirk’s wife, Alison, who clearly hadn’t joined the “Perk is a loser” club. The woman, who hadn’t been eating, but had been pushing food around on her plate up until this point, sounded encouragingly curious.

“I did.” Perk appeared a bit sheepish, but Sloane urged him with a chin-lift to brag himself up.

“At some danger to himself,” she added, then nudged Perk to continue.

He complied with a crooked smile on his face. “The girl I recovered had poked her nose into something that had the potential to shut down a large money-grabbing operation. The suspects caught on, grabbed her, and held her for several days in a basement. I pretended to be a student at her high school, befriended the boy we suspected of snatching her, and once that was confirmed, I was able to convince him I’d take care of his problem for him.”

“Take care of, as in…? You actually were able to make him believe you’d…kill somebody?” his mother gasped, placing a hand to her breast like some clueless heroine in a Victorian novel.

“I did,” he admitted. “I had to make it look real, or I wouldn’t have been able to save her,” Perk downplayed. “It wasn’t that difficult.”

“But because of you, the girl wasn’t killed,” Sloane reminded him, “and has since been reunited with her family where they’re being hidden until the case is closed and things come to trial.”

“That’s awesome, Perk,” Dirk lauded. “It’s a helluva lot more interesting than beefing up some rich person’s portfolio.”

“Now, Dirk,” Mr. Perkins chastised lightly. “We help a lot of people.”

Dirk gave in, clearly to appease his parent. “I know, Dad. We do make life easier for our clients, but rescuing people, breaking up terrorist rings…” He looked at Perk with pride. “Don’t think I didn’t read about your participation in that sting last year where the extremist cell was taken down in the Maine wilderness.”

Perk sat up a little straighter, and Sloane wanted to cheer. Points to Dirk.

Couldn’t his parents see? All Perk needed was just the slightest bit of validation from his family to make him feel included.

“Yes, but not all your jobs are like that, am I right?” Steve the frat-boy put in. “Most of what you do is mundane stuff.”

Sloane had never wanted to slap someone as much as she did at that moment, and she might have followed through except—

“Now, boys. Let’s not make Henry explain himself. I’m sure he knows that the occasional kidnapping isn’t the norm, and that just because he did it once, things like that won’t pay a real living. Whereas, taking up a position in his father’s company will set him up for life.” Mrs. Perkins turned to Perk. “You might even be able to save enough to own a house someday, Henry,” she said with warmth.

Warm or not, the woman was a half-wit.

“Uh, I actually just bought a condo in Boston,” Perk informed her.

Sloane did an internal fist-pump . Take that.

“Oh, no.” His mother did that pearl-clutching thing again. “You must have had to go very deeply in debt for that.”

Perk’s father seemed to agree. “You could have asked us for help, you know.”

Right. And sell his soul to the devil.

“I understand prices in Boston are sky high right now,” Mr. Perkins scolded instead of congratulated. “When the market corrects, you’ll never recoup your investment.” He shook his head.

“Actually…”

Had Perk heard enough? Was he going to tell them all where to get off?

“…I got a huge bonus after we solved our last big case, and it was more than enough for a downpayment, so even if things ‘correct’, I won’t be in any financial trouble.”

That had everyone around the table sitting back in shock.

Sloane tried not to look smug.

“Sweet,” Dirk finally said, leaning across the table for a high five. Perk gave it to him with a grin. “I’m happy for you, bro. You have pictures?”

“I do.” Perk took out his phone, scrolled—

“Henry. You know we don’t do phones at the table,” his mother castigated with pinched lips. Clearly, she hadn’t liked what she’d just heard, and didn’t want Perk’s purchase getting any attention. “You can show your brother your little condo pictures after we’ve opened our presents.”

Oh, no. She did not just say “little” condo.

Sloane hadn’t yet been to Perk’s home, but she’d sure as hell pretend she had.

“Oh, it’s not little by any stretch of the imagination,” she bloviated. “It’s a triple decker, and Perk bought the top two floors; a real score in town. And he got a steal on it because the owner was being transferred overseas and wanted to get rid of it quickly.” Perk had discussed the particulars during their “getting to know each other time” on their yurt-mattress. “Actually, Henry’s first offer, which was lowball, was accepted the day the place went on the market.”

“Well, that sounds…fortuitous,” his father allowed. “Maybe you won’t lose your shirt when you sell.”

A backhanded compliment if Sloane ever heard one.

“Well, is everybody full?” his mother asked into the tension that had arisen, pushing away from the table. “And are we all excited to head into the living room and see what’s under the tree?”

Perk wiped his mouth on his napkin and stood up. “I’ll just slip out for a minute if that’s okay, Mom. The presents I have for you are all in my truck.”

“That’s fine, sweetheart,” she agreed. “I’m sure the ladies won’t mind helping me clear the table and load the dishwasher while we wait for you.”

Sloane patted herself on the back for not rolling her eyes. Of course, the women-folk would be doing the dishes while the men went and…did manly things.

“Actually…” Dirk spoke up, covering his wife’s hand with his own. “I have some news. I was going to share later, but… Well…”

“I’m pregnant,” Alison said when Dirk paused.

Sloane had noticed how nothing on the woman’s plate had been eaten. She was sure Perk had, too. The rest of the crew? Right over their heads.

“Oh, my goodness!” Mrs. Perkins once again had her hand on her chest. “I’m… I’m going to be a grandmother .”

Geeze. Was everything about her?

“Congratulations,” Sloane told Alison warmly, right after Perk had given his affirmations. “I’m assuming you’re having morning sickness?” She glanced pointedly at the woman’s still full plate.

Dirk nodded. “She’s barely been able to keep anything down, and we’ve already spent a couple days at the hospital getting IV fluids into her.”

“How far along are you?” Mrs. Perkins finally showed an interest.

“Fourteen weeks,” Alison told her shyly. “We wanted to wait until I was through with my first trimester, then thought it would be a nice thing to announce at Christmas.”

Amongst more felicitations, which were coming a little late as far as Sloane was concerned, Dirk then let them know he’d only spilled the beans before present-opening time because Alison had a hard time looking at food, so she wouldn’t be helping with cleanup.

“That’s fine, dear,” Mrs. Perkins stepped up. “I’m sure Buffy and Sloane will take up the slack.”

Sloane wouldn’t complain. For Alison’s sake.

She got up and did her Suzy-homemaker impression; actually getting kudos from Mrs. Perkins on her dishwasher loading method. Like it was rocket science.

****

The conversation around the tree while everyone opened cardigans, tweed blazers, collared shirts, and pants with whales on them, continued in the same vein as it had in the kitchen. And by the time Perk had opened his cartoon character slippers and a briefcase that he’d never in a million years use, Sloane was pretty much done. She was just waiting for Dirk and Alison to leave—the woman was looking a little green—so she and Perk could make their exit, as well.

Mr. and Mrs. Perkins must have figured that the day was winding down, because they began picking at Perk again.

“So, when will you be able to come back and take a closer look at the job your father is offering?” Mrs. Perkins simpered.

“Mom,” Perk remained patient, and that said a lot for their own burgeoning relationship. Sloane had a tendency to blow up at times, but with Perk’s calm demeanor, she had a feeling her occasional rants wouldn’t scare him off. She silently cheered him on, now. “Sloane told you. We’re in the middle of an important case right now.”

“We?” Buffy/Muffy scoffed. “You include your secretary to make her feel more involved?”

Okay. It was time for the bullshit to end.

Perk looked amused, but with a roll of his hand, he gave Sloane the floor.

“I’m actually not a secretary,” she informed the wannabe socialite, “nor am I employed by SOS,” she revealed.

“You’re not?” Alison put in, grinning.

That woman was a smart cookie. Even with her stomach doing flip-flops, it was clear Alison had figured out that Sloane was about to blow a few minds.

“Nope,” Sloane confirmed. “My official title is Agent Vessers. I work for the FBI.”