Grumpy Best Friend

“My name’s Zeke Kettner,” he said, lips pulling back unnaturally wide, like a fish about to swallow its prey whole. “Lady Fluke owns this place, right?”

“That’s right,” Jude said, stepping up next to me, and I had to resist the urge to push her back behind me again. “The Fluke Company’s opening a new factory here.” She smiled sweetly like she wanted to charm this guy, and I couldn’t believe she didn’t see that he was a snake wearing human clothes, and that if she got too much closer, he was liable to pump her full of venom.

“That’s perfect,” Zeke said, spreading his arms out even wider, like he wanted to encompass the entire room, “because I own the patent to the Fluke Biscuit, and I can’t wait to get my product on the shelves.”

Jude stood in stunned silence and I studied him, searching for some kind of joke—but his smile didn’t seem to suggest he was kidding. It was the smile of a predator that knew something you didn’t, and you wanted it very badly, but he was about to tear you limb from limb instead.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said, speaking slowly, like I didn’t want to spook him into attacking. The moment felt tense and fraught with possibility, and I wanted to figure out if this guy was some kind of insane homeless person that wandered in here off the street, or if he was even worse—a serious psychopath.

My guess was the latter, based on his clothes and his diction and the way he stood there like the world should bow down at his feet.

“I should explain,” he said, and chuckled to himself like this was all some big misunderstanding. “You see, Lady and I, we go far back. I meet her in, oh, god, the eighties. We were young, stupid kids back then, you know what I mean?” His eyes flashed to Jude and I could’ve sworn his lips curled back into a snarl for the briefest of instants.

“I’m sorry,” Jude said. “I’m not sure I follow this at all. You know Lady Fluke? And you have something to do with her business?”

I wanted to scream at her to run, to get her out of there, but instead stood still and ready to pounce.

“All right, I can see how this might seem random and confusing,” Zeke said. “So I’ll be straight up. I married Lady back in the day, and although that relationship didn’t last all that long, I did walk away from the marriage with a few assets, notably the American patent for the Fluke Company’s best-selling cookie. I own the patent, you see what I mean? So if you people start baking it, I own anything that comes off the production line. I own it all, every little crumb of it.”

Silence hung in the air so thick I thought I might choke. I looked at Jude and her face drained of color, an ashen gray pale, like the body of a walrus. I put my hand on her arm and she startled, like I was about to shake her.

“Sorry, this is just kind of crazy,” Jude said, shaking her head rapidly. “She never mentioned anyone named Zeke, or not owning the patent, or anything.”

“Yeah, I bet,” he said, and laughed like it was all some misunderstanding that would get sorted soon enough. “You should call her, though. Ask her about me. She’ll know.”

I shook my head and gripped Jude’s arm. I didn’t want her to move, not right now, and certainly didn’t want her calling anyone. This wasn’t a misunderstanding—this was an attack from someone that apparently knew Lady Fluke intimately.

“We’re not going to do that right now,” I said, cocking my head to one side. “I think you should leave for now. We’ll get this sorted out later on.”

His smile faltered. I bet he didn’t expect any pushback. He figured we were a couple of corporate stooges, sent here to get the place up and running—and would be easy to push around.

I’d met men like him in my work. Men that were more reptile than human and ready to take advantage of anyone willing to let them get close. He would take from us, and keep on taking if we let him. Calling Lady Fluke with him around would only complicate things, and I wanted him out of here so we could figure out what to do. He wanted to stick around to direct the flow of things.

“I don’t think you get it,” he said, “I own the fucking cookie. Call Lady and talk to her right now. She’ll tell you.”

“I don’t think you get it,” I said, stepping forward. I released Jude’s arm and she sucked in a nervous breath like she was afraid of what I’d do next. “I’m asking you to leave. You might own the rights to that cookie and you might not, but you definitely don’t own this building. I’m asking you to please go wait outside while we get things straightened out.”