Curiosity Killed the Cat
Music blared from the speakers of the beat-up red Toyota as it flew down the highway, windows open, speakers cranked up. The air conditioning was broken, but at least the stereo system worked. The young driver, steering easily with one hand, was tall, stocky, long-haired, tattooed and wearing black sunglasses. He was driving just over the speed limit, fast enough to pass other vehicles, slow enough not to catch the attention of any policemen. Behind and around him, the car was crammed with stuff: books, clothes, duffle bags, and an odd array of boxes, cabinets and cases. One item hadn't fit into any of the cases, and lay on the seat beside him – a long Japanese sword, gleaming silver.
Roman Reigns was on his way home from college.
He whistled along with the music as he sped down the miles of cracked asphalt on the Pennsylvania turnpike, dexterously avoiding the potholes. He breathed in relief when he hit the turnoff for 80 East. A few more hours or so and he'd be back in Virginia, Fairfax County, the suburb of DC where he lived.
It had been a good year for him. It should have been his graduation year, but he had a few more courses to take, due to some low grades during football season where he had little time for schoolwork despite the fact that he was supposed to be a student athlete. Nevertheless, he had a couple more credits to earn: no biggie. One last semester, and he'd be free. Most of his friends had already graduated, and he figured that was just as well: he'd have more time to study and less time for goofing off.
He shook his head, thinking of the good memories of this past school year with his friends. Yes, college was fun and interesting. At some point though he was going to have to settle down, get serious about life, maybe even cut his hair.
Naaah.
He checked his cell phone, wondering if Kady was nearly home by now. They'd said goodbye only an hour ago, at dawn at a rest stop where the highway forked into north and east branches just outside of Harrisburg. She was headed north: he was going east and south: their paths had split. He missed her already.
He had promised to be a good boyfriend, send her presents, call a lot. She thanked him and wondered aloud if that meant she'd have to be a good girlfriend, and what did that mean?
"It means you love me, no matter what," he had said, grinning.
She had only rolled her eyes and kissed him.
Then she had gotten into her own beat-up car, an old farm truck, gathered her long, wild black hair into a ponytail, waved a final goodbye, and driven off. As he had watched her go, he felt the same wistful longing that he always regarded her with, but it was magnified by the circumstances. Kady was cool, almost too cool for him. She was a slight, sturdy girl with a blockbuster personality. She always wore ripped jeans and wrapped thin braids in her hair with colored thread like a Native American: lots of people thought she was Cherokee. But she was Asian – well, half Vietnamese.
And to Roman, she had about her the mystique of the Far East, even though her father was Polish-American. She had that aloofness, those dark, inscrutable eyes – and that hair! Long, black, wavy, tumbling down her back like a waterfall. And she was – well, put together nicely. She sometimes complained about her height because she thought people didn't take her seriously, but he liked that she was so petite. It gave him a fighting chance. For a long time he hadn't been able to figure out if he just had a massive crush on her, or if this was true love, but now he decided he was willing to gamble that it was the real thing.
Back a few years ago when they had met at Mason College, it had been a moment of no significance for either of them. Neither of them had cared much for the other. They ran in different circles, had different interests. Ironically, they only met when Roman had developed a slight crush on Kady's roommate. Even after being formally introduced, they had spent most of their time arguing with each other. But over the course of two years, somehow he had swept Kady off her feet – literally at one point – and, he admitted, she had knocked him off his high horse as well.
So, for the past year or so, they hadn't been able to get enough of one another, and now, driving home, he was starting to wonder if that had ramifications for both of their futures.
For a person as organized and goal-oriented as she was, Kady was fairly cagey on that point. He strongly suspected that her future plans had never included taking up with a football jock, sword-wielding martial artist from the suburbs like himself. She had just graduated – her family wasn't rich, and she'd gotten her mental health degree as quickly and cheaply as possible. Last summer she and Roman had gone down to Colombia to volunteer in an orphanage and school together, which had been another set of adventures, but this summer she had indicated the time had come for serious plans.
Roman agreed, but he wasn't entirely sure she was ready for the serious plans he was starting to think about now.
The problem was, he didn't want to be in the position of proposing marriage to a girl who was going to say no. And Kady just might say no to him, whether she liked him or not.
He sighed as the song shuffle came to an end, and briefly clicked his Ipod to shift to a mix of adventure movie themes. He was coming into the suburbs of DC: home. A whole different adventure. His mom's health was better these days – she had muscular sclerosis, but was surviving. Even though she could no longer walk, she had managed to keep going strong, even on crutches. His kid brothers were always in trouble, between sports, karate, and computer club. And he wondered what his dad had been up to. Most likely, Dad had figured out a new way to hack into the government computer database and reprogram their coffee makers. Or create software that would change every traffic light from yellow to purple, or something. Roman had better get home and find out.
In another hour, Roman turned off the highway and into one of the hundreds of neighborhoods that sprawled out from the DC beltway. He drove past green spaces and gated communities and gateless communities, condos and apartment buildings, tiny rows of little shops, boutique strip malls, and gargantuan big box stores separated by landscaped slabs of banked earth and color-coordinated flower beds.
He turned right, and took a highway that shunted him through several miles of woods and towering concrete sound barriers and slid off an exit into another older town of assorted stores that stood like islands on half-acres of concrete, past trees huddled like lost tourists in groups around drainage ditches, past overgrown woodland developments, and developments built hurriedly on old farmland, vinyl split-levels and ranches with strings of spindly bushes and privacy fences dividing the lots.
Then he took a bypass to avoid the shattered remnant of an old main street with one or two blocks of old-time buildings. He turned right into an even older development of small brick Cape Cods separated by lines of chain-link fences that were mostly hidden beneath piles of vines and embedded in hedges. This development had trees stuck at random in yards and sidewalks, some trees so old that their roots buckled the cement sidewalks and their branches spitefully dropped limbs during every storm.
Last year's hurricane season had seen the demise of the two octogenarians who hemmed in Roman's parents' house. During the tornado in the wake of Hurricane Splendid, the two trees had fallen upon each other viciously, as though motivated by a long-held grudge, and toppled into the yard, narrowly missing the roof but destroying the front porch and the chain-linked fence. Insurance and the town had paid for a new fence and sidewalk, and Roman's mom had said she had never liked the front porch anyway, which was too small to even put a lawn chair on. The façade of the house now had slightly pinker lines of bricks flanking the front door where the posts for the porch had been, and the ragged yard had a growing fishnet of crabgrass spreading over the eight-foot circles of clay that marked the trees' graves.
Roman parked his car, levering himself into the five-foot curb space between a minivan and a compact with one practiced maneuver, and got out, grabbing several bags and his sword. With a great roar, he leapt over the fence into the yard, instigating cries of "Roman is back!" Seconds later, the front screen door banged open to let loose two boys who immediately threw themselves upon Roman with yells of their own. Roman thrust the sword into the turn, dropped his bags, and tackled his first assailant, dropping him to the ground. He flipped the ten-year-old over his back, and roared in dismay, "You guys haven't been practicing!"
His brothers ignored him and went for his luggage instead. "Hey, did you get Insane Drivers III?" 14-year-old Dean said by way of greeting.
"No, I did not!" Roman swiped his backpack back from Dean. "Hey, leave that alone!" he said to Seth, who was swinging the sword around, decapitating tiger lilies. He yanked the weapon away and turning, grabbed a metal throwing star from Dean's hand. "Barbarians!"
"Did you bring me a present?"
"Are you home now for good?"
"What did you bring home?"
"No, yes, wait and see." Roman said, stepping inside and sliding the sword easily into the hooks by the door that marked its place.
The staircase wall was filled with weapons both Eastern and Western, and Roman's sword was positioned just between Seth's Spanish rapier and Dean's gladiator dagger. The messy room was decorated with bamboo scrolls and glass Japanese fishing weights that dangled in nets from the ceiling, souvenirs of his dad's army years overseas. With careful aim, Roman tossed the throwing star, and it made a new jag in the trim over the mantelpiece, which had been its home ever since it had accidentally landed there many years before, making a gash which grew bigger by the years, and to which his mother had resigned herself.
He strode through the tiny living room past the blaring video game console with the cracked screen to the bedroom next to the kitchen, meeting his mom who had struggled to her crutches to greet him. Her blond hair was cut short, and she was wearing an oversized shirt in a cheerful pink and jeans.
He kissed her. "Hi Mom! I'm back!"
Mom accepted his hug affectionately. "Did you have a good trip home?"
"Oh, yeah. I would have made it in three hours if I hadn't stopped. Hey Dad!"
Dad was home from work – that was unusual. Maybe Mom had had a bad day? He was also intent on the bedroom computer – not unusual at all. Finishing a keystroke sequence, his Dad tore his eyes from the screen and set them on his oldest son. "Roman! Glad to have you home!" His Dad's black beard and sideburns had a bit more gray in them, but the eyes behind his glasses twinkled and the laugh-lines were firmly fixed in place. Mom must not be doing too bad.
As if answering his thought, Mom said, "I had a doctor's appointment today, so your father stayed home to take me."
"Everything okay?"
"All clear."
Roman kissed his Mom and Dad. "Good. Hey, I'm going to run to the post office. Anyone need anything while I'm out?"
"Diet Coke," his Mom said. "And green tea for your Dad. Can you go by the grocery store and see what's on sale in the meat section? I haven't planned dinner for tonight yet."
"How about I pick up Chinese? My treat."
Mom grinned. She always looked beautiful when she smiled. "Sure! I'll take you up on that."
His Dad had swiveled his chair inexorably back towards the computer, but dug into his pocket. "You said you were going to the post office? Here. Check the P.O. box for me." He flipped the keys over his shoulder and started on the keyboard again.
Roman caught them with one hand. "No prob, Dad."
Whistling, he went out to his car. Dean and Seth were bringing in his luggage and belongings from the car and piling them on the front room carpet.
"Are you going out?" asked Dean.
"Can we go with you?" chimed in Seth.
"Only if you behave!" said Roman with a grin.
Without answering, his brothers jumped into the car with him and settled themselves comfortably in the back and front seats. Dean grabbed his Ipod and cranked up the loudest song.
"Turn that thing down," Roman said, checking his mirrors while he reversed out of his parking spot. "So what's been going on?"
"Dean's grounded again from computer games but he's still watching me," tattled Seth from the back seat.
"Shut up!" Dean exclaimed, turning around to smack his brother but was stopped by Roman who shot him a warning look. "Dad's working on new tracking software," answered Dean as he settled down again.
"How's it coming?"
"Dunno," shrugged Dean. "He used to talk about it all the time, but he's been quiet lately. Bet he's working on something new. So how's the hot babe?"
Roman groaned. "Dean, let's get this straight. Women and girls are ladies. Not chicks, not babes, not anything else. Okay? Show some respect, or Kady's going to slam you upside a wall when you're least expecting it."
"Is she coming down? Do we get to meet her?" Seth, the ten-year-old, cut in.
"I don't know. All depends on whether she can afford it. Life's hard when you're a poor college graduate. I might go up and see her sometime."
"Can you take us?" asked Seth.
"Yes. I'll enslave you to Kady's younger siblings and you two can work on the farm and learn some manners."
"Pig manners." That was Dean.
"You start acting like a pig, I'll let them send you to the slaughterhouse. Okay, stay here!" They had reached the post office. Roman grabbed the brown paper parcel and got out.
"What's that?" Asked Dean sticking his head out the window.
"Present for Kady. Got to mail it."
"What is it?" Asked Seth as he nonchalantly flicked Dean behind the ear which caused Dean to slap Seth's hand away and glare at his younger brother.
"None of your business. Stay in the car, don't fight. At least not to the death." He strode through the glass doors to the lobby and joined the line. He mailed the package and stopped by the lines of boxes to check the mail for his Dad.
It was full to the brim, mostly with junk mail. He figured he had better sort through it. No use bringing even more stuff into their crowded home. Slipping into his typical role as Dad's unofficial secretary, he started opening letters and checking them out.
Ah. Several of the "serious" letters were actually money-begging letters from political PACs. He tossed those and opened the remaining handful. That's how he found the check.
It was printed, like a payroll check, from the Unicorn Foundation, but the memo said, "Winnings." Paid to "Cash" in the amount of $1,234,567.89.
"This isn't real," Roman said. He flipped to the back of the check, expecting to see "This is a sample" inscribed in red on the back. Nothing. "This isn't real," he said, looking for background printing, any sign that this was just a scam. "Nah. This isn't real."
But the typed amount said one million, two hundred and thirty four thousand, five hundred and sixty seven dollars and 89/100.
Finally, not knowing what else to do, he folded the check, stuck it in his pocket, grabbed the rest of the remaining mail, and went to the car.
As he could have predicted, Dean and Seth were fighting, but fortunately blood had not yet been shed.
"Where are we going now?" Seth demanded between yells and accusations of Dean.
"Bank."
"What for?"
"Just going to try something. I'm curious."
"CKTC!" Dean shouted.
"Hm?" Roman was turning on the motor.
"Curiosity killed the cat." Mom's taken to using the acronym with Dad. That's how often she says it these days."
"Interesting," Roman murmured.
In the lobby of their family bank, Roman handed over the check to the teller, folded his arms, and leaned forward on the ledge. "Can you tell me if this is a real check?"
The teller did the same thing he had done: looked in over, flipped it to the back, scanned it again. "Looks okay to me. Why?"
"I got it in one of those junk mail letters."
She nodded with a knowing smile. "Want me to try and deposit it?"
"Sure, might as well."
"With that kind of amount, they'll probably put a hold on it. Maybe two to eleven business days."
"That's fine. No rush," said Roman smiling back at the teller.
It couldn't hurt to try.
Something new. Please review and let me know your thoughts.
I still intend to update my other stories, but this weird and silly story popped into my head and held the rest of my stories captive until I wrote this one.