Last Gift by Jen Frederick Jessica Clare Page B

really. I want to buy a Maybach with armored sides and bullet proof windows. Daisy screamed when she looked up the price for one on the internet. I think it is just the right price but her face was like a little thundercloud when she shook her phone at me, the one I have bought her.
    She tells me she cannot drive yet because she has no license and unlike lingerie or fur coats, I cannot buy her one. She must take a test. I tell her she drives fine, but she demurs. Public transportation is fine, she says. There are buses that can take us everywhere, not to mention the train that runs from the interior of the city out to the suburbs.
    Public transportation would be fine for me, but not for Daisy. There are other people who could touch her and even harm her.
    It is perhaps paranoia, as she calls it, but I think it is just good sense, like leaving the house with a small revolver in my boot or Ka-Bar knife in my backpack. I have only a few tools of my former trade in our apartment—some of them are known to Daisy. Others I have failed to tell her about, such as the handgun in the closet and the one in our kitchen and the one I have taped under the front hall table. I will not leave Daisy undefended but I know she would feel uncomfortable with all the firearms. She asks, “where are all your guns, Nick?” and I tell her sadly “There is gun in nightstand and I have this small one.”
    This is not a lie; more like not bothering her with unnecessary details. I am in charge of protecting my sweet Daisy so that she can give me all her tender love. I smile to myself, happily lost in the dream of her once again. I pick up my pencil and begin anew.
    “Your beloved,” I hear the interrupter say. “That’s so old fashioned but sweet.
    “Yes, sweet.” What would Daisy have me do? She would want me to smile at the interrupter. Daisy smiles at everyone. I try to smile at the interrupter. Is her name Patty? Dotty? Kitty? I cannot recall.
    “You’re very devoted, aren’t you?” I finally look at the interrupter. Her dark hair is curled and lies in waves around her shoulders. She has very long eyelashes, like the legs of a spider. I think some would think she is attractive, but she looks nothing like Daisy. “What’re you giving her for Christmas?” she asks.
    Giving her for Christmas. The words strike a chord in me and I slowly turn toward the interrupter. “Giving for Christmas…?”
    “Yeah, I mean, she’s your beloved so you’re getting her something, right?”
    I nod. Yes, I am, I think. Gifts for Christmas. Beaming at the interrupter, I ask, “What would you like, if you could have anything?”
    She blinks at me and places a hand over her chest. “God, what I wouldn’t give for a guy like you to be so over the moon over me. Where’d you two meet?” Spiderlashed lady sets her face on one of her hands and moves closer to me. I’m uncomfortable by her nearness and by her strange eyelashes. I may draw these in my next work, giant long-legged wisps of black, like whiskers on the eyes.
    “We meet…” I trail off and think of what Daisy would like me to say because the truth is that I spy on Daisy while researching a hit, a kill. I know Daisy would not want to me to tell the truth. “We meet in coffee house.”
    “Your accent is just delicious. Do you have any brothers?” Flick, flick, go the eyelashes.
    “Nyet, no brothers. No siblings.” I check the clock. Our time in class is almost up and I have not yet completed my project. Sighing, I begin to pack my things so I am not late to pick up Daisy. Last time I lingered overlong speaking with the professor about the darkness in my sketches and how I needed to incorporate lighter shades. By the time I arrived at Daisy’s campus, there was a horde of males surrounding her. At least two or three. Daisy says she is making new friends and so I hid my dismay.
    “Well, if you and your girlfriend ever want to hang out, you should call me. Want my number?”
    At first I