By Paths Coincident

Chapter 2

The air duct above the kitchen counter rattled ominously, as though some large creature was scrabbling against the metal.

"Parker!" Eliot yelled without looking up from the peppers he was chopping. "Get out of there! Our customers already think we have rats."

With a screech and a clatter, the grate covering the vent landed on the countertop. A rumpled blond head with wide, slightly manic eyes appeared in the opening—the Head of Leverage International, at times the Nemesis for all corporate evil-doers, at other times, like the present, a force of complete domestic catastrophe.

Eliot glared at her with all the ferocity that could turn to water the knees of hardened criminals, but Parker had always been immune to his threats.

Slithering head-first out of the vent, she hit the countertop with her hands and arched over into a backflip that set her on her feet within half an inch of Eliot.

Eliot refused to acknowledge her abrupt presence within his personal space, although anyone else but Parker would have found themselves flying through the kitchen door head first with no consideration as to whether that door was open. He returned assiduously to the peppers.

Parker, however, was on a mission and would brook no cold shoulders. "Eliot," she hissed. "Are you really Eliot?"

Eliot swivelled to look at her, which brought them nose to nose. "Of course I'm . . . who else would I be? Parker, if you don't . . ."

"Then why is there someone in the Brew Pub wearing your face?" Parker jabbed a finger at his nose causing him to take a step back to avoid losing an eye.

Eliot opened his mouth, decided there was no possible comment he could make to such a ridiculous statement, and closed it again. Scowling, he folded his arms

Parker circled him, peering closely into his face, and then leaned forward to sniff his neck.

"Stop it, Parker!" Eliot growled. "I don't have time for crazy."

He attempted to return to his interrupted food prep, but Parker was not to be dissuaded. She poked his arm, and he swatted her with a spatula.

"Go away. I'm busy."

"You feel real." Parker frowned at him suspiciously; then she reached out and tugged at a lock of his hair.

"Ow!" Eliot jumped away from her rubbing his abused scalp. "What is wrong with you?"

"I'm pretty sure it's you," Parker decided, looming up behind him and sniffing again. "But maybe I should check out the other you."

"What are you talking about?"

"The person with your face," Parker frowned at him as though he was disappointing her with his density. "He's here with a super hot redheaded girl, so maybe he really is you. And a thief. And a woman who acts like you."

"Parker," Eliot shook his head in exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose, hard, as if that would drive away his incipient brain sprain, "I'm right here! In the kitchen! Talking to you. When I have other things I need to be doing."

"I got their phones." Parker hopped up on a high stool and spread her loot on the counter top that she'd already made unsanitary with her acrobatics.

"You can't . . ." Eliot balled his fists, clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, and prayed for patience even though he hadn't prayed in decades. "You can't rob our customers!"

Parker snorted. "Not all our customers, silly!" She eyed her acquisitions with enthusiasm. "Just the ones that come in with fake you."

"Hey, babe!" Hardison breezed into the room with his arms full of packages and landed a kiss on the nearest part of Parker he could reach which happened to be her ear. He nodded to the other occupant of the room. "Eliot."