"I am not going to have sex with you."

"I don't remember there being an offer on the table," replied Eli. His look of surprise seemed genuine as he glanced over from the driver's seat.

"I'm referring to the matchmaking thing you seem so keen on," she grumbled. "I know you're just aching for an opportunity to bring that up again."

"Ahh ... that!" Clearly, he had forgotten their chat from three days before. "I remember talking about that, what, twice at the beach? You brought it up each time. And just for the record, your charming friend Ellen broke my streak ... praise all that is holy ... so I don't feel the need to check any boxes."

Was that all she was? A box to be checked? You need to get a grip on yourself. Talk about something else. Perhaps she was just a tad fixated.

"Oh, shit!" she cried out. "How could I forget?!" She sat up in her seat and turned toward him excitedly. "I got offered a part!"

"That's fantastic!" Eli's smile said he was properly thrilled.

"It isn't a big part. It'll only be two or three minutes of screen time, but I have about a dozen lines. I am so, so happy."

"So, what's this part?"

"The movie doesn't have a title yet, but the director is a guy I worked with back when I first started out. He was a production assistant back then, and we always got on well. Anyway, my useless agent called yesterday morning to say Julien ... that's the director ... asked for me by name. I read yesterday afternoon, and they offered me the role on the spot." She did a little jig with her arms.

"Okay ... what's the part?"

"Uh ... I'm supposed to play a woman who tries to pick up the main character in a bar. I know these are the kind of parts that sometimes end up on the cutting-room floor, but ... aww, crap," she said dismally, "the part is credited as 'cougar in bar,' but," she continued in an upbeat tone, "the one condition I had is that they change that to 'woman in bar.' My agent is confident they'll accept. Eli, I know it sounds small, but I'm really happy."

"And I am very happy for you. I don't want to jinx things," he knocked on his head, "but I'm sure it will be perfect."

"God, I hope so. It's a small role, but it's a big movie, which hopefully means more exposure. There are three or four A-listers signed, and we start filming week after next. And I know this will make you feel smug, but for a minute before they offered the role, they worried I was too young and beautiful for it."

"Exactly." He nodded enthusiastically. "If I met you in a bar, that'd be my first question. What's a class-act like her doing in a place like this?"

"Ha, smart guy ... hey, food!"

"Kate, we're not even out of Malibu yet. Is this another cheat day?"

"Sort of. I was so nervous, I didn't eat all day yesterday."

Eli immediately pulled off and gave her a sour look as he parked the truck in front of the roadside café she'd indicated. There was not a single word of reproach, and twenty minutes later they were back on the road. She knew he wasn't cranky because of the stop, but because she'd neglected herself, so, as they resumed their drive, she struck a conciliatory tone.

"Thanks again for coming with me," she said in her sweetest voice.

"We had such a great drive last time, how could I say no?"

"I know, but you're giving up your entire day. And it's not exactly like Lompoc, California, is the hoppingest place in the world." She really was grateful for Eli's company and for the fact he'd volunteered to drive. As much as she liked her new truck, she'd never enjoyed long drives, especially not alone.

"It's not the south of France, but I like that area." He glanced over with a wink. "And you can't beat the company."

"El Chupacabra." She was reading some obscure article on her tablet.

"Again, with that?"

"There have been three sightings near Lompoc in the last month, six in the last year."

"Is that what this trip's all about?"

"No, I want to hang out with my bud, check out my hundred-acre spread, and ... maybe get a look at the local wildlife."

She really didn't expect much from her 'hundred-acre spread,' but it didn't hurt to be optimistic. And she really did want to spend time with Eli, not just because she thought he was great, but because she wanted to get a better read on him. Something he had said to her at the beach had stuck with her. It struck her that the 'manic' turn he'd spoken of having gone through after his mother's death seemed to coincide with his depraved tale of seduction.

The idea that Eli's sordid conquest might be true no longer troubled her, at least not overly much. In fact, she'd come to think of the episode with a certain amount of amusement. But at the same time, he had said at least one of the stories he'd told her on the evening of the Flying Guy was false. If it wasn't that story, which she'd assumed it to be, then which? The possibility that he'd manufactured the Monkey Man from whole cloth left her feeling peevish. That story had meant a great deal to her, had helped get her through that night and the following days.

So, she'd hatched a plan. Eli had as much as challenged her to look into the stories he'd told her, and since his 'sordid tale,' as she'd come to think of it, was about him, she'd connived to learn as much about her friend as possible. To begin with, she decided to build what he'd referred to as a 'timeline.' It was one of several simple analytical tools he'd taught her, tools used by spies to help catch terrorists, and she hoped that building a timeline of Eli's life might give her a better idea about the truth or falsity of his sordid tale. He was just one guy, not an entire terror network, so it should be easy.

Her clandestine operation began the moment they left the roadside café, where she'd secured some juice, several slices of fruit, and a bagel. Over the next hundred miles, she split her time between surfing the radio (her official duty), joking with Eli, reading stories aloud to him about Chupacabra sightings, and probing him for tidbits about his life.

Everything was going great until about ninety minutes into their drive, when she noticed Eli glancing over at her from time to time, a barely concealed humor in his eyes. She suddenly felt under a spotlight.

"What?" she demanded.

"Are you building a timeline on me?"

"Damnit ...."

"Did you forget I used to do this for a living? I can tell when someone's collecting on me."

'Collecting,' she'd come to find, was a military intelligence euphemism for 'spying,' and she felt silly for having been discovered so quickly. It didn't matter that he was a professional; it was frustrating.

"Why don't you just ask me what you want to know?" he continued, his laughter barely held in check.

So, she did, and over the next forty-five minutes, he was unusually forthcoming about the story of his life, from high school to the current day. It was fascinating and complex, so complex in fact that her subject had to stop and backtrack in several places to remind himself of where he'd been in a given year or month. His military and post-military careers had taken him all over the world and to every part of the United States.

"So, I don't get it. You said you got out of the army in 2009, but they sent you back to Afghanistan in ... 2013?" she asked with a furrowed brow.

"Yes and no. I got off active duty in 2009, but I didn't resign my commission when I did, so they called me up as a reservist for almost two years in 2013. It was a real pain in the ass, too. I was just starting to get my civilian career off the ground. I had to start nearly from scratch when I got back."

"But I thought you said you liked Afghanistan?"

"I did ... I liked it there a lot, and they even offered to make me a lieutenant colonel if I stuck around another two years. But I'm a civilian now."

While they spoke of his later life, her mind returned time and again to his early years, specifically that year after his mother's death. There was no doubt in her mind he answered her questions honestly, and it again saddened her that he had faced such a painful loss at such a tender age. To have lost her own mother under such tragic circumstances would have been unbearable ... unthinkable. But it was much worse for Eli. To his reckoning, Rachel had been his best friend and a person he was convinced he had failed entirely. Who could blame him if he went off the rails for a while?

But nothing about that news gladdened her. Despite the mirth with which Eli had recounted his wicked and sordid tale of seduction, his actions had flown from a well of deep anguish and sorrow. And given Eli's 'at least one of' language, if that tale was true, it meant one or all the other tales he'd told her that night where the products of his fertile imagination. It wasn't fair. She felt selfish for thinking it, given his loss. But it was not fair.

"God damnit," she muttered.

"Are you alright? You've been pouting since we talked about Rachel."

"Am I that transparent?" She caught herself pouting again as she asked. Damnit. "No," she continued before he could answer. "I think you're just better at reading people than you'd like to admit."

"I'm not. And don't fret about Rachel, if that's what has you worried. I've been over it all a thousand times, a million. There was nothing anyone could have done to help her."

She knew he didn't believe that.

"You know," he continued with a rueful grin, "I tried to get her to move out to D.C. with me after I got out of the Academy. She said I shouldn't have to be burdened living with my mother ... and that she didn't want to be a camp follower. Can you imagine?" he said with a snort humor. "How many people would even know what a 'camp follower' is? That's how cool she was."

Her focus on ferreting out the truth had been so intense that it was only now that she realized she should never have brought up such a sensitive topic. No, you weren't fair, she scolded herself.

"I was thinking more of you," she said. That fact was suddenly true.

"Because I fell apart? Don't worry about that, either. That's all in the past. My life the last five or six years has been incredibly sweet and happy."

"Really? ... what happened to all the shitty relationships?"

"I gave all that up a few years ago. I haven't dated ... and I mean really dated, in ages."

"Oh, my God ...."

"Don't sound shocked. It's the best thing that ever happened to me."

"So, are you like ...," she paused as if he might know to fill in the blank.

"Uh ... gay? Agnostic? Hungry? Sicilian? Ambidextrous?" he ventured in order. "... celibate?"

"That one."

"Not if your friend Ellen has anything to say about it."

"Why Ellen?"

"She's called me about two dozen times since dinner that night. Didn't I tell you?"

"Ohhh ...," was her only response.

"Did you give her my number?"

"No ... no, of course not."

"The woman doesn't know how to take straight-to-voice-mail for an answer."

"Did your ex-wife really ruin you for all women?"

"Oh, not all women. And it was never her, not really. It's all me. But speaking of, I got an e-mail from her a few days ago."

"From the ex?"

"Yep. Speak of the Devil, and there she is."

"What did she want?"

"Who the hell knows. It was a short, cryptic e-mail, sort of a signature for her, this time telling me she's coming back to the states. I don't know if that means she wants to meet for lunch or she's warning me I need to get the hell out of the country before she arrives."

"How long did you say it's been?"

"Since I've heard from her? Years. Since I saw her, even longer. But I did hear from a mutual acquaintance, oh ... six or eight months ago. I guess the ex has had a bad turn of health. The person didn't say what, but it sounded like it might be bad."

"Time to celebrate?"

"No. I'm long past wishing ill on her."

In the silence that followed, Kate went through the radio channels before finally settling on a news station that was discussing the latest tensions between India and Pakistan, who seemed, once again, on the brink of war. She chatted with Eli about the subject, another topic upon which he knew a great deal, while quietly thinking of the stories he'd told her.

She realized that she'd become somewhat obsessive about finding the truth of them, but a man had flown over her house, and it slowly had occurred to her over recent days that she needed to jettison much of what she thought she knew of the world and ... to what? To replace it with something? To build a new worldview from scratch? At the very least, she needed to look at the world in a new light, and Eli was a smart, well-travelled, and sympathetic soul. Most people, including Kate herself, would have demanded someone uttering things about flying men be committed for his or her own safety. This compassionate soul instead had reached out to embrace her.

But she needed to stop fixating on Eli's personal life, for she realized that's partly what she'd been doing. What he may or may not have done twenty years ago were the actions of a young man with a broken and battered spirit. You understand that, whispered a forgiving voice in her ear.

Looking over, she spied that lock of hair that sometimes strayed above his right ear and, resting her arm on the seat behind him, began casually flipping it back and forth. He made not a single protest.

"You know," she said in a dreamy voice, "if I were a superhero, I'd want you as my sidekick."

"I'm not going to have sex with you."

"No, not the creepy kind of hero/sidekick. I need someone who's smart and trusting. That's you."

"What would your superhero identity be? 'The Cougar?'"

"No," was her dramatic reply, "'El Chupacabra.'"

"The Goat Sucker?"

"Don't make me have to christen you 'Major Dick.'"

"Ouch, good one."

"It won't work, though. I don't have a superpower."

"You saw how all those heads turned when you walked past on the beach. There's got to be a way to parlay that into a power for good."

"Oh, yeah ...," she said, again in her dreamy voice. "But then I really would have to be 'The Cougar.'"

"You haven't actually thought this out, have you?"

"No."

"Well, if you do decide to be a superhero, I'll be your sidekick, no matter what."

"You say the sweetest things. Hey ... have you heard of the Dark Watchers?"