Saito groaned inwardly, and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. This was not his idea of a good Friday night. Babysitting James and Phillipa, while Cobb was using the PASIV device to visit Mal again. Cobb couldn't help it. Some people smoked, and some people liked to have the occasional Pinot Grigio with their dinner, but Mal was Cobb's vice. And like most vices it had a death grip on Cobb that was harder to shake than a horny dog from your leg (that was a horrible metaphor, Saito thought to himself, and it is a good thing I am not a writer). That said, he owed Cobb a favour since the former had rescued him from a boating accident involving suntan oil and a particularly nasty bunch of red bellied piranhas off the coast of Brazil. And babysitting seemed to be the perfect punishment, for lack of a better word, for Saito's recklessness.
James and Phillipa were spread out on the living room rug, their eyes glued to the television screen. They were watching a popular children's show. What was it called again? Expunge-Bob the Squarepants? Scrunge Bob Scare Pants? He could never get it right. But the kids were lapping it up, they hadn't torn their eyes from the screen since the show started. Which left Saito to lay back on the sofa, limp and lifeless, while his mind darted from memory to memory. The Fischer job in particular sprung to mind, how he had tagged along as 'the tourist' at first, but became invaluable to the group later on. He remembered with fondness how he bought the airline, how they casually snuck aboard as ordinary passengers, lulled Fischer Jr. to sleep. Such fond memories. Saito beamed. Proclus Global had been skyrocketing in the months since Fischer officially announced the dissolution of his company. In hindsight, it had been a terribly dangerous venture, and they had all risked death, himself in particular coming extremely close. But it was worth it, all worth it. Saito got his end of the deal, and Cobb was finally reunited with his children. And the rest? Well, they had the honour, and the prestige, of an inception gone right. An inception the likes of which had never occurred before, and was very unlikely to ever occur again. Going four levels deep, now that wasn't something one experienced every day now was it?
"I'm hungry," said Phillipa, snapping Saito from his reveries; pulling on his trouser leg. "Could we have something to eat, please?" She was smiling, ever so sweetly. They were Cobb's and Mal's kids through and through, ever so polite.
"Of course," said Saito,pulling himself from the sofa, and motioning to both James and Phillipa. "Come on, let's go to the kitchen."
In the kitchen Saito was faced with a dilemma. The dilemma of what to do. Of course, Cobb had purchased groceries, and being a strong advocate of healthy eating, there was no shortage of vegetables or fruits. But on any given day at the office Saito could depend on his secretary to bring in a takeaway. And there lay the real dilemma. Saito knew fuck all about cooking. In all his years he had not placed a single pan on a hob, not even to make himself scrambled eggs. This was it. One of the most powerful CEOs, possibly in all the world, stumped by his utter lack of culinary skills.
"So, what would you like?" Saito asked rather nervously.
"Green bean casserole!" Phillipa said eagerly. "Daddy makes it all the time."
Saito paused for a second,then whipped out his phone, searching for the recipe online. Then he muttered a Japanese expletive. The eager faces of these two ravenous looking kids didn't help much.
He opened the refrigerator, and upon seeing a bundle of carrots, handed one each to the children.
"Here...have these while I...prepare..." Saito drifted off in a daze.
"Shouldn't you wash them first?" said James.
"Oh, yes, right, of course. Silly me." Saito took back the carrots and ran them under a tap. He thought of his options. Ring a catering company and hope someone serves green bean casserole? Attempt the recipe he found online? Kill himself?
He decided to go for the second option.
"There you go," he said, handing the washed carrots back to the children, as he helped them up to the kitchen high chairs. "Now you just sit back and...look at this...cookery book...while Mr. Saito prepares the food. Okay?"
Both of the kids did as he said, crunching loudly on the carrots. Saito left the children engrossed in one of the cookery books from Mal and Cobb's extensive collection. He went into the bathroom, locked the door, and began to hyperventilate. "What...can I do..?" He whimpered quietly to himself. For you see, this man could have easily just told the children that he'd order some pizza, but James and Phillipa were so sweet, so angelic and unimposing, that it seemed like a crime to deny them anything. This was why Cobb was so crazy about them.
Compose yourself, old man, Saito said to himself. This is not the time for histrionics. He was going to handle this like the brave man he was, for in fact, had he not faced a horde of snipers, killers from the subconscious, sub zero temperatures and more? Had he not been to limbo and back? Yes he had. And how pathetic would it be to see himself reduced to bits by a simple casserole. No, he wouldn't let it happen. Saito straightened his tie and went back into the kitchen.
"Mr. Saito's back!" Saito announced his arrival. The children were too engrossed in the cookery book to notice. Such angels, Saito thought. So obedient, unlike that wench of a cat, Mrs. Snuffles. Which reminded Saito that he had forgotten to feed Mrs. Snuffles before leaving his house. But that would have to be tended to later. A much more urgent and grave matter was at hand.
Saito walked over to the coat hooks by the refrigerator, and pulled one of the aprons over his head. It said KISS THE COOK, with the word KISS stylised and a picture of Gene Simmons next to it. Cobb had a great taste in music.
"Alright children, now where does daddy keep the beans?" Saito asked.
"In here!" said James, sliding off the kitchen stool and opening the fridge, struggling to remove a large bag of beans.
"Let me help you with that," said Saito. He consulted his phone. "Now we need some milk, black pepper, onions, and a dash of soy sauce." When all the ingredients had been assembled, he consulted the phone again. Everything was thrown into a large pot, according to the instructions, and thoroughly stirred. Saito placed the pot in the oven and set it at 350 degrees.
"Now we have to wait for a bit," Saito explained, wiping the sweat off his brow. That really didn't turn out to be as difficult as he expected. Now all that was left was to stir it, add the chopped onions, and bake it some more. "What would you like to do while we wait?"
"What's for dessert?" asked Phillipa.
"What-" Saito stopped mid-question, slightly thrown off. He had not anticipated anything like this. A dessert? A possible second dish to prepare? That he was definitely unprepared for.
"What's for dessert?" Phillipa asked again. Saito gnawed at a fingernail.
"W-w-what do you want...for...dessert?" Saito said the last word like he had never heard of it before in his life. How could this fundamental part of a meal go completely missing from his mind? How could he not have predicted that after dinner, the kids would want dessert?
"Can we have some ice cream please?" asked Phillipa, and James nodded in assent. Saito smiled like a raving lunatic. Yes, ice cream he could definitely do.
"Well of course, kids! Is it in the freezer?" he said, opening it to find it empty. "Oh it looks like you're all out! I'll have to go buy some. Kids, will you just watch tv for a bit?" Saito ushered them into the living room.
"I will be right...back..." he said, scribbling his phone number on a piece of paper. "If anything, just ring Mr. Saito, OK?" he told the kids. Nothing would happen in the five or so minutes he was gone, in fact, he could have left them alone all day and they would have taken care of each other, but for Cobb's peace of mind he would be back as soon as he had left.
Saito got into his car and drove to the closest grocery store he could find. When he had parked the car and was already browsing shelves, it occurred to him that he had forgotten to ask the children what flavour they wanted. Saito smacked his forehead. There were so many. Strawberry and vanilla and chocolate were all present, but so were banana, and peach, and pecan pie, and rocky road, and mint chocolate chip, and pistachio, and golden ribbon, and chocolate hazelnut, and cookie dough, and cherry, and coffe and toffe and every other flavour he could and probably couldn't think of. What did Cobb's kids like? What if he brought them the wrong flavour? Something they coudln't - or wouldn't - eat? Then the whole dinner would be ruined and to hell with all his babysitting cred. Shit. What was he going to do?
And in a flash of a lightbulb in his brain it became all too clear what he was meant to do. Shopping basket in arm, he went to the furthermost corner of the frozen foods aisle, and placed a tub of each flavour into his basket. In fact, he filled two more baskets which a shop assistant was carrying for him. A total of 36 tubs of ice cream. Saito drove back home with a smile plastered on his face. Buying things came easy to him.
When he returned home loaded with shopping bags, the kids ran up to him.
"Woah, what's in the bags?" said James. "Is it ALL ice cream?"
"I didn't know which flavour you like, so I bought them all!" Saito said, half joking, half rather quite pleased with himself. But that pleased look suddenly turned into one of disgust when he smelled something rather vile.
"What's that smell?" he asked. And then it hit him. The casserole. "Shit," Saito muttered, but quietly enough so that James and Phillipa could not hear. He dropped the bags and ran to the oven, where a small wisp of black smoke was billowing out.
"Shitshitshit," he said, as he grabbed the nearest cloth-like thing he could find, and opened the oven. Black smoke erupted out, choking Saito, who stood back as his eyes watered.
"Kids, stay back!" he told the kids as they came into the kitchen. He grabbed one of the cookery books and began fanning the smoke away.
"Maybe you should turn the oven off?" said James.
"Right." Saito did as he was told, and then proceeded to remove the charred remains from out the oven, placing them on the countertop. Phillipa scrambled onto the kitchen high chair and examined the damage. Saito slumped into a chair.
"Oh children, I'm so so sorry- I'm so-"
"It's okay," said Phillipa. "I wasn't that hungry."
"Yeah, but I am!" said James. Phillipa shot him a look. Saito was slumped over the table, head in his hands. Phillipa gave him a gentle, comforting pat on the head.
"It's okay," she repeated. "At least we have the ice cream." The ice cream! At least five or six minutes had elapsed in this interlude, and in this kind of heat...Saito didn't even dare to think, he dashed back to the room where he had dropped all of the shopping bags.
But the ice cream was fine, still rock solid. He heaved a sigh of relief. Taking them to the kitchen, he said, "I know Cobb...Daddy wouldn't approve too much...but.. why don't we have ice cream for dinner?" He gave them a conspiratorial wink, and the children's faces brightened up immediately.
"Yay! Ice cream for dinner!" said James, the younger of the two, who wasn't too keen on the casserole to begin with.
When they had sampled all of the ice cream, and all of them, Saito included, couldn't possibly stomach another spoonful of the stuff, they deposited the remaining tubs of ice cream into the freezers.
"That was the best dinner ever!" said James. "You're the best babysitter ever Mr. Saito!" Saito beamed. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for a job well done.
Cobb came home late, after the children had been tucked into bed (with yet another night time story of how once upon a time in a kindom far away Mr. Saito and Daddy had lived as old old men...). He and Saito were in the kitchen drinking whisky on the rocks, and Cobb was expressing his gratitude for Saito babysitting. "Was everything alright? What did you guys do?" Cobb asked.
"It was great," said Saito, leaning back in his chair. "The kids behaved...perfectly." Cobb looked pleased. "Oh and," Saito added, "you might not want to look in the freezer though," he said.
"Why not?" said Cobb, instinctively moving to the freezer, opening it. The shock of what was inside made him gasp. "WHAT?" he exclaimed, amused.
"I bought...all the ice cream," said Saito, with a chuckle.