I own nothing. This is just a fanfic, written in the hope that someone might be entertained. It's another story from the "Morning conversations" world.
It got away from me, a bit, and turned out really long. But it seemed to want to be written. Hope it also seems to want to be read.
/Feudor
Parents
Shelley Possible McGoohan was just about to step into the hot shower when the telephone rang.
She had only been in the house for a quarter of and hour, and she desperately needed to clean up. Having just returned from one of her top-secret extractions of important assets on behalf of one of the U.S. Government's alphabet agencies, her body was grimy and sweaty, and her mind felt equally unclean. In a previous life she would have ignored the beeping of the smartphone, but as a mother and wife, she could not. It might be the kids, saying they were lost somewhere; the school reporting some kind of problem; or – worst of all – the hospital or the police.
There was no caller ID and she didn't recognise the number. Heaven help them if it was a telephone salesman.
"Hello, Possible McGoohan residence," she answered.
"Umh … hi? Is that Shelley?" the caller asked. "This is Tara. Tara King from the pre-k?"
Of course. Tara. The blond, pretty teacher that was also a cheerleader friend of Kimmie's.
"Oh, hi, Tara. Is something wrong? Has there been an accident?" The call did not come from the business number of the school. Perhaps it was Tara's private phone. Was that a good or a bad sign?
"Oh, don't worry. Nothing bad has actually happened. But, … there are some issues that I think we should talk about. It's a bit sensitive, so I don't want to do it at the school, or over the phone. Are you home? Could I come over?"
Shelley sighed silently. She really wanted to have that shower, followed by a five-star brandy and a spell on the couch, but she knew that she would not be able to relax if there was an issue at the school waiting to be talked about.
"Sure," she said, "I'm home. Just give me twenty minutes to freshen up. Kim is at college, though, and won't be home before tomorrow."
"Oh, that's fine. I think we should talk as soon as possible, and we can fill Kim in later. I'm in my car, so I'll be over in twenty, no problem!"
"Fine. See ya!"
_\o0o/_
Shelley opened the door quickly when the doorbell rang. She had taken her shower, untangled her hair, and dressed in undies and a t-shirt. She had slipped into a luxurious, light-green bathrobe that had been a present from Kim. The pink bunny-slippers on her feet had been a present from Kelley. She looked informally at home, and soft in the fluffy robe.
Tara, on the other hand, looked active and sporty in tight, high-waist jeans, white sneakers and a dark blue t-shirt with a university logo. She wore a retro-style bomber jacket in brown leather and her wavy blond hair flowed over her shoulders.
"Hi," Shelley said, "come on in."
Tara moved with cheerleader grace and muscles. Not as toned as Kimmie, of course, but still with an air of power and control.
"Tea or coffee?" Shelley asked.
"Whatever you are having will be fine."
They moved into the kitchen and Shelley started up the coffee machine. "Americano? Cappuccino? Espresso? Latte? Ordinary brewed?"
"Wow! What a machine." It was actually a rather big barista type coffeemaker of professional size; even bigger than the one Shelley had given to Mrs. Dr. Possible.
"What can I say? Coffee is important to me. A caffellatte with hazelnut syrup?"
"Great. Thanks." Tara sat down at the breakfast nook and Shelley started operating her steam engine of a coffeemaker.
When they both had cups in front of them and a plate of cookies between them, Tara cleared her throat and started, a bit hesitantly.
"So … there has been some … friction lately between your daughters and some of the other kids."
"Right." Shelley sighed. "Are they being bullied? Because of us? Me and Kim?"
"No, not exactly. And, first of all, it's just a couple of kids. One, really. And some of his weak-willed friends."
"Oh. Which kid?"
"You remember Bobby Butler?"
"Bobby? The one whose father is in jail for beating his wife?"
"That's the one. But the father is out, now. And the mother is in hospital."
"He's out? How did that happen?"
"I don't know what kind of deal his lawyers made. But Alison Butler was attacked on the street and beaten up quite badly, and the father, Derek, is on parole to be able to take care of his son."
"So, someone else also beat Mrs. Butler up for a change?"
"Yeah, someone else. But possibly according to a certain someone's wishes. Derek Butler has some really creepy buddies."
"Hm. Had she done something to set him off?"
"Who knows? Perhaps she had smiled at the bus-driver, or talked to the coffee-shop man."
There was a moment of silence.
"This is going to sound awful, but how did the kid of such a family came to be enrolled in the Blueberry Pre-k? It's not exactly cheap, and the parents all tend to be tolerant, liberal professionals."
"Well, when Bobby started, Alison lived with another man. A college professor of literature. A nice bloke, really. Derek, though, is Bobby's biological father. He had disappeared for a couple of years, but, unfortunately, he came back. There was a conflict, to say the least. The new guy left. Or disappeared. Some say he went to California."
Shelley looked intently at Tara.
"Tara, how come you know so much about this? Do you have some inside information?"
"Well … you know Leslie's a cop, right? With the Tripleton serious crime squad? Well, she hears things …"
Tara glanced shyly and a bit guiltily at Shelley, looking adorable. "You won't say anything, will you?"
Shelley let a short laugh bubble to the surface. "Don't worry," she said, "as long as you don't use confidential information for blackmail or something, I couldn't care less."
Tara shrugged and fiddled with her coffeecup, continuing a bit hesitantly.
"Well, anyway, this Derek, he has some rather … unpleasant opinions. Not so much about you being a same-sex couple though. He's just the sort of bloke who'd find that … hot?"
"One of those."
"Yeah, one of those. Well, his problem is mostly that he is certain women are weak. Weak, cowardly, incompetent, stupid. They should be at home, cooking food and caring for the children, and that's it. Oh, and service the head of family, when he's in the mood. So, he thinks Stacey and Kelley, with two mothers, have the most useless parents you can think of. And Bobby echoes the attitude. And pesters the kids about it."
Shelley looked at Tara again, a bit stunned. Eventually she burst out laughing and Tara joined in.
"Really! Stupid, cowardly, incompetent? Kimmie? Me? That must be the worst example ever of a pair of weak little women."
They burst out laughing again.
"There could be worse," Tara teased.
"Really? Who?"
"Well, your friends at the wedding? Batgirl and Supergirl?"
Shelley grew totally serious in the blink of an eye. "Who?"
"Oh, come on, now. It's obvious. Babs and Kara? Right? Are those supposed to be secret identities?"
"Ah ... yes. Yes, they are. They'd rather not have everybody know. And, anyway, I'm not really sure they swing that way."
"Well, I might be wrong. But take Harley and Ivy, then? They are not really very discrete. About anything."
"Harley, discrete? Well, no …"
Tara leant forward and smiled. "Those secret aliases are really not that difficult to guess, are they? I mean, Bruce? And Selina? And also, they are obviously a couple."
Shelley closed her eyes.
"Please don't tell anyone. They really do want to keep under cover."
"Well, they should think more about modern facial recognition tech, then. Granted, it's the area around the eyes that are easiest to detect, and they do run around in their silly little masks, but really!"
"Is it you, or your detective girlfriend, who identified them?"
"Well, both of us, sort of. And we are both a bit … fascinated by the crowd with the tight, slinky bodysuits."
"Hm. Perhaps you'd want me to dress in my old catsuit?"
Tara smiled and there was a naughty glint in her eyes. Shelley looked away and took a deep breath. "Too bad, I burnt them all. And Kimmie threw away her cheerleader uniforms when they wouldn't fit anymore."
"Really?"
"Really." Not really. There was a box in the attic …
A short pause, Shelley sipping her coffee.
"Anyway, this thing with Bobby, what happens?"
" Ah, yes. Well, he goes on about mothers being in general useless and teasing the girls in various ways. Mostly, then ignore him, but it's not easy."
" And, there has been no … incidents?"
" Incidents?"
" Forget it. You would know if there had been. But really, if he doesn't get a rise out of them, don't you think he'll stop, eventually?"
" One can hope. But the problem is not really the kids. His father keeps waiting around when fetching Bobby, outside, on the sidewalk, not inside the school. hoping to meet you or Kim, and to gloat over your uselessness in person."
" Really? He doesn't know who we are?"
" Probably not. The kids all talk about each other with first names, and he wasn't around at start of term when all the parents had the meet and greet."
" Oh. So, I'll just come and fetch the kids tomorrow, and give hime the scare of his life? Problem solved."
"Not really, I think. If you humiliate him, or hurt him, I'm afraid it will only be taken out on Bobby when they get home. Derek's not the kind of man who admits his mistakes. There's a real risk both Alison and Bobby will be in hospital by Monday if you do that. And, also … while the kids seem to handle it, there has been some conflicts with the folks that have come to pick Stacey and Kelley up while you were gone."
Shelley groaned and rested her head on the table.
" I don't really remember who was supposed to do that," she muttered indistinctly into the tabletop. " I fear the worst."
Tara smiled mischievously. " I'll tell you what happened. And then I'll tell you what I think we should do."
" We?"
" Yeah, we. But it'll take a while. Do you have an hour?"
" I have to be at the Doctors P. for dinner with them and the kids at six at the latest. You wanna come?"
" Hm … if you think it's alright?"
" I'm sure. They remember you from Kimmie's high-school years, and, besides, you are Stacey's and Kelley's teacher. I'll just call ahead."
_\o0o/_
A short phone call and two fresh cups of coffee on the table later, Tara started her tale.
" So, on Monday, great-uncle Slim came to pick the girls up."
"Well, that should've been fine, then. Slim's a man, and of the strong and silent cowboy type."
"Yeah, well, it seems this Derek has opinions not only on gender, and, of course, race, but also on age. In his view, Slim is a doddering old fool, driving a real ugly car."
" Ugly? Don't tell me he brought that rat rod he's building?"
" Yeah, it's finished, apparently. Hard to tell, it still looks like a wreck, but it runs."
" So, things didn't go well?"
" No."
_\o0/_
Derek kicked the right front wheel and contemplated the car.
"Dude, that's one ugly wreck of a car," he said.
"Don't kick it, please. And it's supposed to look like that. It's a rat rod."
"And you're the rat, then, I s'ppose? Old geezers like you shouldn't be out driving in traffic, is my opinion."
"Ah don't care too much for your opinion."
"Tough shit. This thing got an engine?"
"Yeah. It has a 16-litre diesel turbo boosted V8 engine from a truck. It delivers 730 hp through a 12-speed semi-automatic gearbox."
"A truck engine in a hot rod? You're insane. You've gone gaga in your old age."
Slim shrugged. "It delivers. It can do almost 200 mph on a track, and zero to sixty in 5 seconds."
"Yeah, dream on. Old fogeys like you should be put away in a home."
"Young man, let me tell you sumthin'. As ya live, ya'll eventually find that time passes. If ya live, ya grow old. That happens. Though for you, maybe not so much. Go 'round talking to people like that, and ya'll probably find someone to end you sooner rather than later."
"Better to die young and be a beautiful corpse than living to be an embarrassing old wreck like you!"
"That ship already passed you by. You can at most be a middle-aged, fat and flabby corpse. Want me to help you with that?"
"Why, you …"
Tara hurried over. "Mr. Butler. Mr. Possible. Everything all right?"
_\o0o/_
"Wow! But, they didn't actually start a fist-fight?"
"No, but it was close. And Slim would probably have knocked him out, no problem. Derek's big and has some muscles, but he is overweight and slow."
"At least, it didn't bring up the whole little women topic."
"No, not then. But on the Tuesday, Bobby showed up with a black eye. And Anne came by in your black Mercedes."
_\o0o/_
"Why, hello there. You the mother of these girls?"
"Hardly. I'm their grandmother."
Derek Butler gave an insolent wolf-whistle. "Now, there's a MILF if ever I saw one. A cougar."
"Daddy, what's a milf?"
"Something your dad can explain when I and the girls are not listening, hopefully," Mrs. Dr. Possible said.
Mr. Butler changed tack.
"Big car for a little woman," he said. "You okay driving it?"
"I can handle it."
"Hear that, son? The lady can handle big equipment."
Anne blushed in fury. "I really have no idea why that would be of any relevance for you, then," she said, acidly.
"Oh, a smart-mouth bitch, right?"
Anne could not stop herself, even though she knew that she descended into playground trading of insults. "Smarter than you doesn't really set the bar that high."
"Whatever. Smart or dumb, women should just shut up and stay at home."
"I think you in particular should be grateful that I have a career outside of home. I'm the head of neuroscience at Middleton General, specialising in brain surgery, and you appear to be just the type of man that could benefit from some treatment."
"You calling me stupid?"
"No, just the type of man likely to get a lot of fists to the face."
"Oh, scary. By little ladies like you?"
"I don't hurt people. I'm a medical doctor. But if my daughter heard you, you'd be in for a world of hurt. If my daughter-in-law heard you, you'd be in intensive care."
Derek Butler laughed.
"But don't worry," Anne continued, "I won't tell them. You don't look like you could afford the insurance for any medical care at all, so I'll spare you the expense."
_\o0o/_
Shelley sighed. "So, he must really love the Possible family by now."
"Probably. But don't worry, it gets worse."
"Worse? How could it be worse?"
"Wednesday, Bobby had some difficulties sitting down. It obviously hurt a bit. And Ed and Elena came by in that red battleship they call a car."
"Oh, joy."
_\o0o/_
Doris, the Cadillac Eldorado, pulled up by the pre-k school, and Elena got out from the passenger seat to collect the kids. She was wearing an oily t-shirt, coveralls, sneakers and welder's goggles, but with the dark lenses flipped up, out of the way.
Stacey and Kelley ran up, greeting their Aunt Elena enthusiastically.
Derek Butler got up from the schoolyard wall where he had been sitting, waiting to go home with Bobby.
"Whoa, there! You must be the mother of these girls!"
"No. Just friend of family."
"Really? Only, you do look like a freak, if you don't mind me saying, and one of the mothers is supposed to be a freaky, weird colour."
"How could I not mind being called freak? You learn shut your trap, blázen."
"Well, not sorry. Not my fault you're a freak. A woman dressed up as a mechanic. Why are you pretending you can work on cars?"
"Because gets things done. Me and Ed built twelve hot rods and restored nine vintage to mint, just in last year."
"Come on. Carrying tools in you belt. I bet you don't even know what they're for."
Derek Butler grabbed Elena's left arm and held it away from her body, looking at the selection of equipment hanging in loops from her belt.
"Like, what's that?" he said, pointing to one of the tools, "And what do you use it for?"
"That? Torque wrench. And you hit things with it."
"Hit things!" Mr. Butler burst out into a sarcastic laugh, but it suddenly turned into a howl of pain as Elena grabbed the wrench and hit him sharply over the knuckles with it. Bone crunched and blood spattered as Derek Butler let go of her arm, cradling his injured hand against his chest.
"You crazy, weird-ass, idiot freak of a bitch! I'll fucking kill you!"
But Edward Lipsky had by now gotten out of the car, and inserted himself like a wall between the two combatants.
"Is there a problem, here, seriously?" he asked in a low but deliberate voice. "Like, what did you just say?"
"Problem? Your crazy bitch, there, crushed my hand. I said I'll fucking kill her!"
"Now, I heard you the first time, and the second, too. I will still give you a chance. What – did – you – say? And take a moment to think before you answer. I will not like it hearing you say that word again."
Derek Butler was not a small man. A bit over average height, a lot over average weight. You could see that he had been strong in his youth, but by now the muscle had been traded in for flab and an impressive beer barrel of a gut. Motor Ed, on the other hand, was tall; at least a head taller than Derek Butler. His shoulders were wide, and his biceps the size of watermelons. There was no fat on him at all, his waist was slender and his abs were tight. Even his hair didn't look silly at the moment, but gave him a look of crazed aggression. Derek Butler did take a moment for thought.
"I just …" he started.
A hand the size of a bear's paw shot out and grabbed him by the neck.
"Think again," Ed said, and squeezed.
Derek Butler tried to say something, but only a squeak was heard.
"You're sorry? You apologise to my wife? You'll never say something stupid about women mechanics again?"
Butler's eyes bulged. He might have nodded, or else it was Ed that rocked his head slightly.
"Just what I thought, seriously," Ed said. "Now, scram. And you'd better hope I never lay eyes on you again."
Bobby Butler took his father's hand protectively and they started walking away.
"I could have handled that myself," Elena said.
"I know, love, seriously. But I wanted to scare the shit out'a him.
"Well, thanks." And in a louder voice, "Come children. We leave."
_\o0o/_
"Oh, man. Disrespecting Elena! That's a suicide move if Ed's around. He becomes the Hulk."
"Yeah," Tara said, "But this will only lead to trouble. Butler's got some shady friends, and he's not above enticing a bit of burglary or arson to get his revenge."
"You think?"
"I totally do. And also, this didn't help with the attitude towards women. It was Ed that emerged and forced him down. And if they hadn't gotten into a fight, Ed's just the sort of macho ideal that Butler seems to embrace. But he was way out of his league. So, he has to be thinking about hitting back in some way."
"Ah. So, did something happen last night?"
"No. I talked to Ed about it, and he called back with noting to report this morning. But I think it was too early. Derek will have to make the rounds, talk to his no-good pals, case the joint … is that what you say? 'Case the joint'?"
"Well, I certainly don't say it, but I believe some people do."
"Well, tonight would be the night to be prepared for."
"Hm. You want me there, to catch them red-handed?"
"No. That would just escalate things. Besides, let Joss handle it. You can't keep her away from it, anyway."
"Shit. Does that mean Daddy of the Year had a run-in with Cousin Joss today?"
"Yeah, he sure did. And the crazy girl pulled up in a big-ass dump truck."
"A dump truck? Whatever for?"
"Well, she told me later that she has been helping to remove some dark power earthworks out at the compound of a satanic cult of some sort."
"She drives around with demon soil to pick up my kids?"
"No, no. The truck was empty."
"She scares me a bit, that Joss girl."
"Um-hm. But she isn't scared of much. Certainly not of Derek Butler. He, of course, popped up and started holding forth on the place of women in society. I didn't get to be so close, this time, as Mrs. Prentice had cornered me about the proper way to handle lost and found socks."
"Right. Priss Prentice. Socks. I can imagine."
"Yeah. Well, anyway, things got a bit heated. And then Joss stood herself up in front of Butler in a pose like that sketch by Da Vinci; you know, hands and feet out as if they were in a circle?"
"The Vitruvian man? Okay."
"Yeah, whatever. And Butler just drives his fist straight into her stomach."
Shelley shook her head.
"Yeah, it looked really painful. I swear Joss was airborne for an instant from the force of it. But she just laughed.
_\o0o/_
"Excuse me, Mrs. Prentice, there seems to be some problem out by the sidewalk."
Tara walked up in time to hear Joss talking.
"That's it? That's your entire argument? Why men are stronger than women? Pathetic."
Derek Butler looked confused. He had put all his force into the blow and had expected the little slip of a girl to be a broken, crying mess by now.
"Anyway, my turn now," Joss said. "You're not chickening out, are ya?"
Butler didn't look all that certain, but a glance at his son convinced him that he couldn't back down. He squared his shoulders and nodded.
Joss placed her right hand close to the sternum of Butler and drew her left fist back as if to give him an uppercut. Butler followed her fist, preparing himself. However, he was taken quite by surprise when Joss instead delivered a lightning quick blow with her right hand, with little of no apparent preparation. Butler dropped to his knees, his mouth open but no sound coming out. He then curled up on the pavement, fighting for air. The parents present by the school gate looked horrified. Tara looked resigned. Little Bobby Butler displayed a series of conflicting emotions, ranging from fear to extreme satisfaction.
"Let me through," Mr. Finlay said, "I'm a doctor."
He squatted down by the stricken father, checked his pulse and put him in the recovery position. After a while, he stood up again.
"There doesn't seem to be any serious problem. He's just totally winded."
Joss shrugged.
"If there's any problem, I can testify that I saw him hit you first," Dr. Finlay said. "But perhaps you shouldn't be here when he gets to his feet again."
Tara took charge. "Stacey, Kelley! Climb up into the truck, will you. I need to have a few words with your aunt."
_\o0o/_
"Hm. So what did you talk with Joss about?"
"I told her she'd better warn Ed, Elena and Slim that there could well be some burglary or vandalism out at the garage tonight. She looked almost excited and said they'd prepare something."
"I definitely don't want to know," Shelley said. Then there was a little spell of silence while they finished their coffees.
"Well, anyway," Shelley eventually resumed. "What do we do about the teasing from little Bobby, and his asshole of a father?"
"I'm glad you ask. I have a plan, actually. I've talked to Leslie, and Joss put me in touch with Wade. I need to run it past Kim, but you also need to reach out to that lady at Global Justice."
"Betty Spook? Whatever for? How can she help with pre-k recess bullying?"
Tara made an impatient gesture. "It's not really about the kids. Stacey and Kelley are handling it well, anyway. No, it's more about Bobby. He had a second black eye today. And Bobby's mother. Listen up, and I'll tell you!"
_\o0o/_
The next day was Friday, and Kim came back from university in time for a late lunch. They ate and talked through what Tara had asked them to do, then dressed with care and calculation for their roles.
Shelley dressed for power in a pencil skirt, a pale green blouse and a checkered blazer-like jacket. She put on dark stockings and comfortable black flats, and pulled her hair back in a very loose ponytail.
Kimmie, on the other hand, put on a grey, pilot-style shirt and trekking trousers with lots of outside pockets. She had serious walking boots on her feet and a short windbreaker jacket. She looked vaguely professional and authoritative, like anything from a bus driver to an EMT, a pilot on a private jet or a helmsman on a big yacht.
The plan called for their driving what was by now the Sloth 2.3. The Tweebs had tweaked it a bit more, but without adding any spectacular features beyond the submarine navigation, the suborbital supersonic flight capacity and the VTOL capabilities. It now had better fuel economics, improved handling and additional safety features. Shelley still didn't like it. Partly, it was because the original Roth SL had been such a dog of a car, partly it was the horrible colour. Kim wasn't to enamoured of the vehicle, either, but that was mostly because she didn't really have much use, nowadays, for the high-speed performance and the flight capability. The FAA wasn't too keen on road vehicles suddenly going airborne in urban areas, either.
But they had both agreed to Tara's plan and were fully intending to carrying it out.
_\o0o/_
When they parked the Sloth just outside the Blueberry pre-k, they found that Tara had delivered on her part of the preparations. There were tables and chairs out in the playground. The kids, and the parents that had so far arrived, were having some sort of celebration, drinking juice and, for the grown-ups, coffee. There were cookies and muffins that the kids had obviously helped bake. Some of them were actually not burnt to a lump of charcoal.
Tara met the Possible McGoohans at the school gate and nodded discretely towards a pudgy, slightly dishevelled man to indicate the identity of Mr. Butler.
Shelley went to battle first.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Butler," she said. Nice to meet you. The kids have been talking a lot about Bobby and you."
Reaching out to shake Derek Butler's hand, she made sure her jacket swung open to reveal the badge clipped to her belt. Mr. Butler went a bit pale, and took her hand in a nervous, limp grip.
"You a cop? No one told me that."
"Oh, not really. I actually work mostly in national and international security. Afraid I can't tell you more than that. But at the moment, I'm on loan to the local FBI office."
Derek Butler didn't manage more than a grunt to keep the conversation going.
"It's a pain, really," Shelley continued. "Lots of regulations. They even make me wear a service weapon."
She opened the left side of her jacket to show the shoulder holster with its small 9 mm automatic.
Butler grunted again.
"It's ridiculous," Shelley said. "I'm really used to a lot more firepower, but this is what regulations say that I should have."
Shelley gave him a wink and a wave, and walked off to find Stacey and Kelley. Kim stepped up to bat. Butler was a bit on edge after meeting Shelley, and she plowed right in.
"Mr. Butler!" she said, loudly enough that the whole group of parents could hear her. "I'm so glad to finally meet you!"
Derek Butler had enough self-awareness to doubt that any mother of the pre-k kids would be glad to meet him.
"Yes," Kim continued, "it's so encouraging to meet a father that takes his responsibilities seriously. You are stepping in like a real modern dad while your wife is ill, taking the time to be there for Bobby. That's really good of you. And walking both to and from the school, taking the opportunity to bond with the kid. And getting fresh air and exercise. I can see that you are a caring, feeling adult, not afraid of taking on all the roles of a parent. You know – cooking, cleaning, washing. Not every father would do that."
Derek Butler looked like a big wave had broken over his head. He just could not fathom how he could have been perceived in the way the little woman in front of him had just described him. And he heard the approving murmurs and comments from the other mothers and the few fathers present.
"But you know, what really impressed me was that you took the time to talk to our relatives and friends coming to pick the girls up during the week."
Impressed? He had tried to pick a fight with each and every one of them.
"Yes, it's important for kids to meet people that can be good examples for them! Take my uncle Slim. He may be an old farmer from Montana, but he had the courage to move here and start working on his passion – cars and machinery. And my mum – she really worked hard on her studies and look where it got her! Head of a department at the Middleton General! And Ed and Elena. She's a legal immigrant from what was then Czechoslovakia. She had quite a hard time growing up, I've come to understand. And Ed; he had some trouble with the law in his youth. But now they own three really successful companies. And cousin Joss. Well, I really don't know what to say about cousin Joss. She's something else, isn't she?"
Derek mumbled something about it having been interesting to meet them.
"Well, thank you, again," Kim said and turned to talk to the mother of little Jessica. Halfway through the turn, she changed her mind and faced Derek Butler again.
"By the way," she said, "we are having a sleepover for the girls and some of their friends for Saturday and Sunday. There'll be both boys and girls. Mrs. Ackroyd and Dean will be coming, too. We'll have a little movie night today, and make an excursion to our summer lodge in the mountains tomorrow. We'll try some fishing. Eat around a campfire. Bobby would be very welcome to join us."
Derek started to protest and talk about better getting home.
"Oh, come on! It will be an adventure for Bobby. And you can treat yourself to some time for yourself. I'm sure you're worth it."
The cogs were turning in Butler's head. 'No, I don't want Bobby to have fun with a bunch of kids from school'. 'No, I don't trust a gaggle of women to be able to manage an excursion'. 'No, I'm afraid a gaggle of women, one of them some sort of cop, would be able to manage it'. 'No, I'm afraid Bobby would like it'. Nothing worked; the parents all listening and waiting for his answer.
"Well," he finally said, "I'm afraid we don't have any gear and clothes and stuff …"
"Oh, don't worry! We have a lot of stuff from my younger brothers. They were in the scouts for some time, you know."
" … eh … "
"And for sleeping, we can just grab the toothbrush and afternoon nap stuff here from the pre-key."
"I'll go and get it," Tara said. She had been listening close behind Mr. Butler.
"Just swing by and drop him off at … oh, right, you don't have your car. No problem, he can ride with us. We have an extra child seat."
Shelley had collected Stacey and Kelley. They were joined by Bobby, who displayed a whole spectrum of conflicting emotions: excitement, fear, apprehension, and excitement again.
Kim reached out and shook Mr. Butler's hand.
"Thank you for being such a supporting parent," she said.
"But … but …," Derek Butlers said.
"Yes, Butler. I remember. Tadaa!"
And just like that, Bobby Butler was whisked away to a weekend without his dad.
_\o0o/_
Shelley helped the kids to strap into their chairs in the back seat of the Sloth.
Stacey, in the middle seat, elbowed Bobby. "Prepare for the ride of your life, Bobby!"
"Don't frighten him, now," Shelley-mom said and shut the door. She got into the front passenger seat, and Kimmie-mummy slid in behind the wheel.
"She knows how to drive, I hope," Bobby said; half aggressively, half jokingly.
Stacey and Kelley just laughed.
From the schoolyard and the sidewalk, parents and kids watched in awe as the Sloth rose a few feet on its Load & Lipsky lifters. The wheels retracted into the car body and the four jet engines emerged.
Everybody waved.
The nose of the car tipped a few degrees downwards, the turbines began spooling up, and car started rising towards the safe elevation when the jets could take over lift and propulsion. Blasting of with the jets directly from the ground tended to cause collateral damage and knock bystanders over, so Kim played it safe. When she did engage the combustion engines, however, the Sloth screamed off into the sky like a fighter jet.
Derek Butler watched the ridiculous pink car ascend until it was just a speck against the blue.
_\o0o/_
Alison Butler woke up with the distinct feeling that someone was in her room, which was strange. It was around mid-morning on the Sunday, and the nurses had already checked on her and given her the morning medication. The door was closed and there was a strict no visitors policy.
"Who's there," Alison asked with a quaver in her voice.
"Don't be alarmed. It's only me," someone said and stepped up to the bed Alison was lying in. It was a tall, pale woman with long, dark hair. Alison vaguely recognized her. One of the parents at the pre-k.
"How did you get in here? There's no visitors allowed at all, and there is always a guard outside the door!"
"Oh, I don't generally have any trouble getting in wherever I want. Don't you recognize me? Shelley Possible McGoohan."
"Oh. Stacey's and Kelley's mother. One of them. Come to gloat, have you?"
"Gloat? Why on earth would I want to do that? No, you're a sister in distress. I'm here to help."
"Sister in distress! I'm no sister of yours. I'm a poor single mother working multiple dead-end jobs just to make ends meet. Supporting Bobby and myself, and that abusive dead-beat Derek. While you are a happily married mother of two with a successful career. I've read a couple of your books."
"You think I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, is that it? Let me tell you, sister, I've been in some very dark places. Done some very bad things. Had some even worse things happen to me. But I got a chance, with Kelley, and with Kim, and I took it. Now, there are some people that want to give you a chance. Would you take it? Whether you like me, or not?"
"There'll never be a chance for me. I thought something was possible a couple of years ago, with Jorge, but he came back, didn't he? Derek came back."
"We can offer you a new start, with new identities, for you, Bobby and Jorge, and no Derek."
Alison thought for a moment. "It's no good," she finally said. "He'll find us."
"Oh, no, he won't. Not where we can offer you a place. Oh, he might have some shady contacts in Colorado, or even in the US. But what can he do in, for instance, Europe? With all official papers provided legally. Birth certificates, passports, social insurance, you name it."
"Legally? How can that be possible?"
"Don't ask for specifics. Just trust me. We would tap into a global witness protection scheme run, ultimately, by the Interpol and the United Nations. And we can do it because I and a few friends have some favours owing."
"Really? Where would that be? What kind of life would we have?"
"You would have to learn Spanish. For Jorge, of course, that would be no problem. And I've been told that you speak a little, yourself. Bobby will easily learn; he's young. And – it would be on a group of small islands off the coast of Spain, called Los Altos Molinas. Jorge could teach in a school they have there; it's a sort of vocational university, but it also offers more traditional subjects for those living on the island that want to prepare for going to higher education on the mainland. He could do literature, languages, history, and things like that. You could teach music, if you wanted to. At the school, or with private lessons. It's up to you."
This time, there was a longer pause for thought.
"It will never work," Alison finally said. "I can't leave him."
"Really? He may have been in prison, but he sure is the reason you're here. And you want to stay with him?"
"Well, perhaps I don't really want to. But you have to understand, he was very different some years ago.
"We were high-school sweat-hearts. He was a star player in the football team. I was not a cheerleader; just an ordinary girl. He was kind, he was funny, he was smart and he was thoughtful. We had college all lined up. He had a football scholarship and I had managed to scrape in, too, studying art, music and history. And the first term of college was great. We had such fun. And then it happened."
Shelley sat down at the foot of the bed. There was no chair for any visitor; there wasn't supposed to be anyone visiting.
"One morning, when he was out jogging, a elderly lady made some mistake backing out of her drive. She hit the gas pedal instead of the brake. The car shot out onto the sidewalk, and Derek was caught between the back bumper and a tree.
"It wasn't a very violent accident, but his knee was badly hurt. He could never run again. Of course, he couldn't play football anymore. He lost the scholarship. He couldn't afford to stay at college. The medical costs took a lot of the family savings."
Shelley just listened. It seemed that this was a story that had to be told without interruptions. The woman in the hospital bed seemed to want to tell it. Perhaps she didn't have any friends to confide in and had her history all bottled up inside.
"At first, he really tried to make the best of it. He had a job in a corner store, while I continued at the uni. But the store closed, and he had difficulty finding another job. I dropped out and took a job flipping burgers. We scraped by. But he got more and more … bitter. He started drinking. He gave up on finding a job. There were little hustles and shady deals. He suddenly had a lot of pals that I really didn't like. But we managed. Mostly.
"Bobby was an accident. We really couldn't afford to raise a kid. But he was born and I couldn't imagine giving him up for adoption. Things were bad. But then he left.
Alison Butler turned her head away, but continued talking. Her voice was quieter, but the words kept coming.
"He just left. One day he wasn't there. I met Jorge. We moved in together. We were happy. And then, the bastard had to come back.
"Jorge is a gentle man. He's not strong. But there was a fight. I thought Derek would kill him. I actually thought he would beat Jorge to death, there and then, in the living room, in front of both Bobby and me.
"So I promised I would come back to him. We would live together, and I would earn the money. He would … yeah, I don't know what he would do, but sometimes, he had money. More and more seldom, though, because so much of it went for drink. And perhaps worse things. But he always said that I was the single person in the world that could help him going on. The only one he needed."
Shelley hesitated, but when Alison was silent for a while, she had a question.
"Didn't he have parents that could help? Brothers or sisters?"
"Well, they did help in the beginning. He got money regularly from his mother and father. They were loans, everyone pretended, but Derek never paid anything back. And then they discovered that he had been at their house when they were out. He had stolen jewellery, paintings and cash. He managed to empty their bank account. He stole their car. After that, they broke off all contact with him. He was on his own, as far as they were concerned. And his sister has moved to Canada and married a hockey player. Derek doesn't dare show his face there. So you see, he needs me. And I did love him."
Shelley thought things over for a while. Then she started summing up.
"Well, it's your choice, of course. If you want a new life, in Europe, you can have it. If you want to stay here in Lowerton, with Derek, that's your decision. But Nancy, you must realize that you can never help him, or get the nice and gentle Derek back."
"Nancy? My name's not Nancy; it's Alison."
"Well, you're behaving like Nancy. Ever read Oliver Twist? Seen one of the movies? Perhaps the musical?"
Alison shook her head vaguely.
"Nancy, from Oliver Twist, by Charles Dickens. She was a warm-hearted girl on the bottom of London society. To be totally clear about it, she was a prostitute. Her boyfriend, of sorts, was called Bill Sikes. He must be one of the most evil, most brutal villains that Dickens ever created. Nancy stays with him because she thinks he needs her, and she thinks she loves him. In the musical, she has a great song, trying to explain that. But anyway, she tries to help the main character, Oliver Twist, and Sikes gets it into his head that she has betrayed him. He beats her to death with a club. Then he flees, but is discovered. He hangs himself, by accident or on purpose. You could have seen it coming for miles."
"So, you think he'll kill me?"
"Well, what do you think? Is it likely?"
"But I could make him not do it. I could make him better. He does need me."
"No, Alison, he certainly does not. Don't you see, you are the last person who could really help him now."
"What?"
"You are the one person from his past that is still around. You are the person that reminds him of what he could have had, if life hadn't been so unfair. And, he's probably not stupid. You're also the one person whose life he has destroyed. Whom he might still love, in a way, but whom he cannot keep himself from using and abusing. You are not a helping hand; you're an anchor around his neck, dragging him down."
The silence that followed was long, and Shelley didn't want to break it. She wanted Alison to have time to think it all through.
"So," Alison finally said, "if I said yes, how would this work?"
"Bobby is at our house by now, waiting for Derek to pick him up. Which he won't be doing, since he was taken in drunk and disorderly on Saturday night, and is sleeping it off at the Park Street police station.
"Jorge is at the airport, waiting. If you say yes, he will join you.
"There is a business jet chartered by the Global Justice, waiting in one of the hangars. If you agree, we will take you there, and Bobby will join you and Jorge for an immediate flight to Barcelona.
"All your new papers and documentation will be waiting for you there. An agent of the Interpol will hand it over. Then, a helicopter belonging to Señor Senior Calderon will take you to the town on the biggest island of Los Altos Molinas. A house is waiting for you there. It is a town house in the historic centre of the town, with three bedrooms, a study, a living room, and a big kitchen. It will be yours, if you chose to stay. But you don't have to. You can go anywhere in Europe with your new identities. Other continents, too. Just not North America for the time being. Probably best stay out of Mexico, too."
Alison looked at Shelley with large, round eyes.
"Why?" she asked. "Why are you doing all this? Why would anyone pay to help me?"
"Well, the idea came from Ms. Tara at the pre-k. She was a bit worried about Bobby, and then she got even more concerned about you. Her partner is a detective with the Tripleton serious crime squad. She was concerned about what Derek seemed to be up to. For the Global Justice, and the Interpol, witness protection is just routine. We got it approved because I knew who to talk to, and what to ask. And a sort of relative of ours is very good at obtaining information and stuff. He found Jorge quicker than the police could, and he found the Embraer Legacy 650E to charter. I will be the pilot, with Kim as navigator. And the Señor of Los Altos Molinas is actually my father in law from a previous marriage. He owns a lot of property on the islands, and will be happy to let you have a house if it can get him good teachers for his school. He is very keen to provide good education for the people on the islands."
"Are you for real? Are you some sort of fairy godmother? When will you start singing Bippity Boppity Boo?"
Shelley laughed, both at the humour of the remark and in relief.
"I assure you, that is not the deal. Everything will still be there after midnight, and you will not be required to wear ridiculous footgear. But if you really want me to sing you a song, I can do that. Just not 'As long as he needs me'."
"Well … all right then."
Shelley took a small communicator out of her pocket.
"We are good to go," she said into it. "Extraction is 'go'. Assembly at aircraft in 60. Ask for a slot time for departure in 120."
Shelley turned back to Alison.
"Well, Alicia, this is the first day before the rest of your life!"
_\o0o/_
Later, at the Ridge Street Police Station in Lowerton.
The fat cop opened the cell door, jangling his keys. His shorter, thinner partner explained the deal.
"Okay, scum," he said. "You can go! They're not going to press charges, so you can be off. Collect your stuff at the front desk and disappear!"
Three of the occupants of the cell trudged down the hall towards unexpected freedom. The fourth, however, hung back.
"They don't press charges and we're free to go? That's it?"
"Yeah, you got a problem with that, please step right back in."
"Well, I have a complaint to make. Nobody ever listens to me, but it ain't right, it ain't."
"What's not right?"
"Them people up in that workshop; that's who ain't right."
"Waddaya say, Ollie? Shall we listen to the man?"
The fat policeman shrugged. "Might as well, Slim. Better'n going back out on patrol."
"Okay, then, son. We'll take your deposition. Step into the interrogation room there, and start talking."
They sat down at a scarred table in an almost empty room; Slim and Ollie on one side and the former prisoner on the other.
"So, what's your name?" Slim asked and flipped a notebook open.
"Marvin E. Stevens. The E is for Edward."
Slim wrote it down laboriously, and then made a go on gesture.
"Okay. So. These folks up there at the Ed & El, they ain't right."
"So you said. What is the the problem?"
"Well, we tore down the gate to the place with our pickup, and there they were, not right."
"Marv, my friend, a little more detail, please."
"Yeah, for instance, they had these two very big dogs. Enormous. Went up as high as my armpits, they did."
"Ah. And what did the dogs do."
"Well … do. They did nuttin', really. But their eyes glowed."
"And they were in the yard, were they?"
"Yeah."
"Well, Marv, having dogs in your back yard is actually not a crime, as far as I know. If'n they didn't attack you?"
"No, they just stood there, growling. But huge! And with glowing eyes. Red."
Ollie hid a grin behind his hands.
"That it? Not much of a complaint, is it?"
"No, there's more. There was this tall, pale and beautiful woman, in sort of old-style clothes."
"Oh, a woman. Scary stuff."
Ollie chuckled.
"Well, she was. She had this creepy smile. And her teeth were all pointy, here," Marvin said and indicated his canines. "And we couldn't do a thing. We couldn't move, we couldn't speak, no nuttin'.
Slim put down his pencil.
"Look, son. We have all been overwhelmed by a beautiful girl, some time or other. It's nothing to be ashamed of, even if it happens to most of us, like, in junior high."
Ollie let a laugh escape.
"No, no, you don't understand. It was nothing like that. This wasn't right. It was downright spooky."
"Well, we can't all be men about town, used to meeting stunning ladies, you know. Never mind, you'll find someone eventually. Perhaps."
Ollie laid his head on the table between his arms and tried to stop his guffaws of mirth.
"Anyway, this spooky lady, did she actually do anything?"
"Nah. She just stood there."
"Ok. A lady standing around in the yard you just broke into. I hate to break it to you – that's not even a misdemeanour."
"You don't believe me, do yah? Well, there was this other girl. Tight jeans and western boots. Tank top and a biker's leather jacket. Funny hat."
"Another female? You sure don't have any luck with the ladies. And, let me guess. She just stood there, did she? In her own back yard?"
Ollie leaned back and let roar with a belly laugh.
"Well, no. She made some strange gestures and said some mumbo jumbo things. And then, her eyes glowed, and she was holding this big-ass, glowing sword."
"Ah. And did she attack you with it?"
" … No … she just stood there."
"She just stood there. Alright, I have to ask you: what had you been drinking before trying to break into the yard? Snorted? Injected? 'Cause if I were you, I'd try to cut down. It's at least the Dee-Tees."
Ollie rolled on the floor, laughing uncontrollably.
"It's no use. Ya' don't believe me, do ya'? I tell you, they were werewolves and vampires and stuff. I've seen that on the telly!"
"I certainly believe that you saw nothing, weren't attacked and have nothing at all to tell me."
Slim put away his notebook and called the front desk. "Sandra, can you show this gentleman the door, please? But gently; he's had some bad encounters with the ladies."
Marvin left, muttering to himself about the zombie apocalypse. Slim turned to Ollie and shook his head.
"Really. Some people," he said. "Werewolves. Vampires. Nasty rumours."
Ollie sat up on his chair again, and shut down his laughter.
"Yeah, that could've been trouble," he said.
"So, Ollie, shift's over. Wanna come for a drink?"
"Nah, I need an early start. It's almost the full moon, and I have to drive all the way out to the pack hunting grounds."
"Ah, I forgot. Well, don't lose your clothes this time. I'm not driving all the way out there with a suitcase for you this time."
"I keep telling you, I didn't lose them. Somebody took them. And my f**ing car. Or do you think I'm so retarded that I can't smell my way back to my own clothes?"
"Dogsbreath, I really don't know how retarded you are. But have it your own way. I'll go for a drink on my own."
"Yeah, don't go draining the city while I'm gone will you? I don't wanna have to investigate any strange bodies when I get back."
"You know I'm always careful not to take too much."
"Except that time, two years ago…"
"Yeah, yeah. Well, happy hunting then, Shaggy."
"Same to you, Sucker."
_\o0o/_
And much later ...
"Yohoo! Derek? You in?"
There was noise coming from the living room, and the elderly lady headed that way to find Derek Butler shutting of the DVD and hiding the X-rated disc he had been watching. There were empty beer cans on the coffee table, and a bowl half full of popcorn.
"Mrs. Lipsky! I didn't expect you so early."
"Well, the bridge game got boring and the other ladies had to go," Mrs. Lipsky said before narrowing her eyes. "Have you been drinking beer again? You know we have talked about this."
Derek Butler made a few vague gestures, but really had nothing to say.
"You know you can have one beer with dinner, but not like that, on the couch, watching whatever …"
With the DVD switched off, the TV now showed a programme being sent direct; a kiddie show about talking trains with faces. Mrs. Lipsky looked at him suspiciously, and Derek sighed.
"Well, anyway, I'm going to start dinner. We'll eat in 15 minutes. Would you be a dear and pick up the cans and trash?"
Mrs. Lipsky bustled out into the kitchen and Derek began tidying the living room.
After a while, Mrs. Lipsky stuck her head in again.
"Derek, dear. Are you getting bored? Perhaps you have rested enough? We can always ask that nice Mr. Gemini to give you some job. I mean, you did complete his training and all."
Derek Butler shivered. He didn't have happy memories of the WEE training camp. He had, however, made it out alive, and was not keen to test his luck any further.
"Ah … no, that's alright. I'm sure he'll call if he has a job for me," Derek said, planning to be nowhere to be found if that were to happen. Anyway, the deal with the scary pre-k mothers had been to go through the training, and then go and lie low at the old woman's house. And they had enough dirt on him to make him obey. Prison life didn't really agree with him. And all his all pals had somehow given him the could shoulder, anyway, after that break in at the Ed & El Garage. Everything had started to go wrong in really strange ways.
"Derek, dear, have you washed your hands? Dinner's on the table in five!"
"No, Mrs. Lipsky, I'll go and do that now."
_\o0o/_
And there you have it. Now, go and read Oliver Twist. It's a fantastic novel and much, much better than the drivel above. /Feudor