A/N: I finished this one quicker than I thought I would. There's plenty of humor in it; I think I needed to write a lighter piece to counteract all the heavy emotions I dealt with in the last few stories. I hope you get some laughs from this one; enjoy!
§ § § - June 27, 2009
Leslie was almost used to their odd new threesome by now: herself, Roarke and Rogan, waiting at the plane dock for their guests to start disembarking. Rogan had made it a habit to wear that black T-shirt proclaiming him "Fantasy Island staff"; Leslie had noticed more than one disapproving look from Roarke, but Rogan simply ignored them all and went blithely on his way. Out of deference to her father, Leslie wore her usual black-trimmed white pantsuit or dress with jacket; lately she had taken to wearing the pantsuit, as her abdomen was still not entirely flat from her recent pregnancy and she had a sneaking feeling that at her age, it never really would be again. The pantsuit was usually more comfortable.
"Well, here we go, uncle," said Rogan, his brogue out in full force and his eye on the disembarkation ramp, where an awed-looking man who appeared to be in Leslie's age bracket was just emerging from the seaplane's hatch. "Me first stand-alone fantasy. Are ye sure this'll really work?"
"Still doubting yourself, Rogan?" Roarke chided. "You seem to consistently forget that you were born with the same powers as I, and I've shown you how to operate the time-travel room and its powers. There's no reason you can't handle this fantasy entirely on your own; you know you'll have to do this alone in the not-so-distant future, every weekend."
Rogan let out a sigh. "Aye, uncle, I know...but 'tis glad I am that ye're still around to check up on me work."
"You could try introducing us to this guy," suggested Leslie, "and that'll get you started right there."
Rogan gave her a dirty look that met with a grin, and sighed again before turning his attention to their guest. "That's Matthew Drake, from Philadelphia—which, if I have me American history right, was the adopted hometown of the man he wants to meet this weekend: Benjamin Franklin."
"Oh, that's a good start," said Leslie brightly.
"Shut up," Rogan sniped, rolling his eyes.
Leslie sighed. "Rogan, really...I'm trying to encourage you here."
"That's enough," said Roarke. "You sound like a pair of bickering siblings. Is there a specific period in Mr. Franklin's life that Mr. Drake wishes to witness?"
"Aye—he says he wants to know if that whole business with the kite in the thunderstorm really happened, or if it's one o'those legends like Washington an' the cherry tree," Rogan explained.
Leslie shuddered a little. "Ugh. Better you supervise that fantasy than me." Roarke chuckled when Rogan gave her an even dirtier look, which went unnoticed since she now had her attention on the plane dock again. "And who's this guy?"
"Mr. Colin Matney, from Asheville, North Carolina. Believe it or not, Rogan, you have the easier of this weekend's fantasies to oversee."
"Aye?" Rogan prompted skeptically.
Roarke nodded. "I don't know about you, Rogan, but Leslie, you may be more familiar with a heavy-metal band known as Shock Treatment."
Leslie nodded. "They were really big in the late 70s and through the 80s. Camille used to listen to them all the time, and they're still one of her favorites. They broke up around 1992 or so, just about the time grunge music was starting to really explode."
Roarke nodded. "Mr. Matney was also a devoted fan of Shock Treatment's music. At the time the band went defunct, its members had grown tired of the project and, it is said, of one another. All five of them went their separate ways shortly after their last album was released, and they have not seen or contacted one another since then; there is reportedly a great deal of animosity amongst them. And that will make Mr. Matney's fantasy very difficult indeed, for he hopes to reunite the band members for one concert here on the island."
"Oh boy," Leslie murmured. "Good luck with that!" She exchanged a glance with her father before his wineglass arrived and he raised it in the weekly toast, while Rogan shoved his hands into his pockets and Leslie wondered whether she should talk to Camille.
At the main house, Leslie could hear the energetic wailing of Anastasia from upstairs; the older children must have heard them come in, for Susanna and Tobias both came galloping down the stairs. "Mommy, Anastasia's screaming!" Tobias announced unnecessarily.
"I'm not deaf, son, I hear her," Leslie assured him. Noelle came down then with the baby, while Karina trailed her, hands over her ears.
"Sorry, Miss Leslie," said Noelle, wincing. "She started crying like this about ten minutes ago, and I couldn't do anything to soothe her."
"That's because she's hungry," Leslie said with resignation, tossing Roarke a look that made him chuckle. "Well, I'll go ahead and feed her while you two are making the last few preparations. Good thing we've got half an hour before the first appointment."
"Can we go to the beach now, Noelle, please?" Susanna wheedled hopefully.
"That came up ten minutes ago too," Noelle said, fielding Leslie's surprised look as she lifted the wailing baby from the young sitter's arms. "Almost as soon as Anastasia started crying. I wanted to be sure it was okay with you."
"It'll be fine," said Leslie. "I'll be in here for the rest of the morning, so if you and the kids want to go, you're free to leave whenever you want."
The triplets cheered, and Noelle grinned, hurrying back upstairs to pack a tote bag with sunscreen and towels. Leslie sent Karina to the kitchen to get some water bottles from Mariki, directed Susanna and Tobias to wait on the loveseat, and hurried up the stairs with Anastasia, whose shrieking bid fair to deafen them all by now. The baby had just turned two months old, and the family was still waiting for her to smile.
It took Anastasia about twenty minutes to decide she was finished, and Leslie burped her, then settled the yawning infant in her bassinet, stroking the tufts of hair that were trying to cover her scalp. Leslie pressed a little kiss to the baby's cheek, straightened her clothing and returned downstairs, just in time for the foyer door to open and admit Matthew Drake. Roarke gestured at Rogan, an upraised palm extended in his direction, as if to say, He's all yours. Rogan cleared his throat noisily, greeted Drake and asked him some questions, then led him to the time-travel room and ushered him inside before stepping in behind him. As he turned toward them to close the door, he threw them both a fulminating look, before the door shut him away.
"Not ticked off much, are you, Callaghan?" Leslie remarked, rolling her eyes.
Roarke chuckled. "He'll get used to it. One day, when he turns everything over to Rory, he may even find he misses it. Since I'm leaving this fantasy entirely up to Rogan, and since it's quite straightforward, I think it's best if you assist me with the Matney fantasy."
"I'm thinking about calling Camille," Leslie observed. "I mentioned at the plane dock that she's a big Shock Treatment fan too."
"Do you think you'll need some manner of assistance from her?" Roarke asked.
"I don't know. But she probably knows a lot about the group; I could always ask her some trivia questions and see what she knows."
"You could do the same of Mr. Matney," Roarke noted, amused. "However, since the last two members of the band have yet to arrive in any case, I asked Mr. Matney to wait till eleven this morning to come speak with us. That would give you time to pay a call on Camille and ask her the questions you have for her."
Leslie agreed, and gave Camille a quick phone call to let her know. Camille turned out to be out having breakfast with Myeko, prior to their catching the shuttle bus to the ferry terminal so they could do some shopping at the Air Force base; so she joined them at the café in the town square, grinning at their stacks of pancakes. "Hungry, are we?"
"We need fortification for this strenuous shopping trip," said Myeko, making them all laugh. "I thought you'd be busy with the fantasies."
"Half right," said Leslie. "I'm working with Father on only one of them. This is his first weekend giving Rogan complete charge of a fantasy."
Myeko and Camille looked at each other. "Uh-oh, better batten down the hatches," said Camille with a grin. "You never know what he'll blow up."
"Be quiet, you," said Leslie, grinning. "It's a pretty simple one, as these things go. Just a time-travel fantasy. Father walked him through the process before he ever turned him loose on this fantasy...so I'm told, anyway."
"Now we're in trouble," said Myeko, straight-faced. Leslie elbowed her and she let out a grunt. "Okay, okay, I take it back! So what're you really doing here?"
"Well, Camille, I think this'll excite you," Leslie said. "The fantasy I'm working with Father on...well, this guy's here to see if he can get Shock Treatment to reunite, just for one concert here on the island."
Camille's mouth and eyes popped wide. "Seriously? Shock Treatment?"
"You know they've been broken up for, what, almost twenty years now?" Myeko reminded her.
"We know that," Leslie said. "Like I said, this guy's trying to reunite them. We know they split up hating each other and all that, but I figured you'd know more than anyone else around here, so I thought I'd come over and pick your brain."
"Oh, I see," said Camille, grinning, and settled back. "Well, it's true. Once they broke up the band, they got as far away from each other as they could get, according to all the magazine reports. They're scattered all over the mainland US, and they all have careers that have nothing to do with music, at least so far as I know. There was a big ruckus out of the fan base. Their biggest fan club still exists, but they run more on nostalgia than anything else nowadays. I was a member for years. Every once in a while, some magazine or celebrity TV tabloid runs a 'where are they now?' bit, and you'll see one or another of the members in it. Sometimes you get all five. Last time I saw one of those, the lead singer had just become a grandfather for the tenth time. Kinda hard to believe."
Myeko laughed. "Hard to imagine any of those long-haired headbangers being a grandparent. Taro and Tomi used to listen to their stuff a lot. Typical heavy-metal types with the studded dog collars and leather pants, and no shirts, and all that. I think back in the 70s, they even wore platform shoes, till those went out of style."
"They didn't wear makeup like Kiss?" Leslie asked, half joking.
"No, that wasn't their thing. They did make it a trademark to wear these distinctive headbands around their foreheads, in different designs. One guy—the drummer, I think—wore one of those Japanese-flag-style rising-sun things, and another one wore plain old black, and another guy had his imprinted with glow-in-the-dark orange flames. Their stuff was rough and tough and wild—the louder, the better." Camille let her gaze drift into space. "Boy, what I wouldn't give to see those guys in concert. I never got the chance."
"Well, if things work out this weekend, you might get that chance," Leslie said.
Camille made a face. "Don't bet on it. Toward the end there was a lot of infighting in the group. Grunge was just emerging and a couple of the guys wanted to switch their style, the rest didn't. It started out like that, and then it boiled over into disagreement over almost everything else they could think of, and next thing you know, this great band fell apart and dropped off the face of the earth. From what I hear, they still hate each other."
"That's not good," Leslie muttered. "That'll be some challenge."
Camille peered thoughtfully at her, then seemed to come to a decision. "Tell you what. As soon as Myeko and I get back from our trip, I'll give you a call. Maybe I can dig up my old Shock Treatment scrapbook—I used to keep one of those things, and if my mother didn't pitch it back in my college years, it should still be in my parents' house somewhere. If you need any help at all with this thing, let me know."
Leslie grinned; Myeko snorted. "You'll do anything to get into a fantasy, huh?"
"So would you, and all the rest of the gang too, so button your lip, Okada," Camille returned in the same teasing spirit. "Whaddaya think, Leslie?"
"Sure, go ahead," she agreed. "If I don't answer my cell, I'll be busy, so just leave me a message and I'll get around to it when I can. We don't even see the guest for almost two more hours since we're still waiting for the rest of the band members to get here, so I figured it was a good chance to talk with you. How long do you two plan to be gone?"
"We'll probably come back after lunch," Myeko said. "So she can call you then."
Leslie agreed, wished them an enjoyable shopping trip and departed, making her usual detour into Christian's office a few doors down from the café. It crossed her mind to realize that she'd miss this if they had to leave the island, and she had to bury it in the back of her mind before she would allow herself to go inside.
To her surprise, there was mild chaos; everyone was gathered in the middle of the room, bent over something. They all turned to stare as the bell on the door jangled, and smiles broke out on all faces, including Christian's. "Leslie, my Rose! Come over here and see Julianne's baby!"
Leslie was reminded for the first time that Julianne had been scheduled to give birth in April, and came up beside Christian to see an adorable infant snoozing peacefully in a stroller under a colorful lightweight blanket. Julianne, still on maternity leave, was beaming with pride, and lit up still more at sight of Leslie. "Hey, there you are! Meet Mallory Pearl Ryerson—dropped in on us back on April 17."
"What a cutie!" Leslie said, admiring the baby. "And only nine days older than our Anastasia. How perfect is that?"
"I know, Boss Prince told me—isn't that cool? In a few years they could be best friends in school!" Julianne said enthusiastically, making Leslie bite her lip and force back the reminder. "I'm so glad you got to see her—this is the first chance I've had to get out since Mallory was born. I hope you bring Anastasia in here eventually so I get to meet her too." She squatted beside the stroller and softly tickled Mallory's chin; the baby squirmed but slept on. "I was just telling Boss Prince he might have to hire a part-timer even after I come back. I hate the idea of leaving Mallory in some day-care place or with a sitter or something. I mean, heck...I know my niece or some of her friends would be happy to stay with her, but you kind of get this...you know, possessive feeling."
Leslie grinned. "I know what you mean. She's so adorable. Um...not to run off or anything, but Christian, my love...how's it going around here?"
He pulled her aside so they could speak a bit more privately. "We've been distracted by the baby, but it's light, so I figure we can afford to loaf for a while. What sort of fantasies do you have?" Leslie gave him a quick summary, and he lifted a brow at mention of the defunct band. "Shock Treatment? I seem to recall that band being among Rudolf's repertoire as he was growing up. But I always heard they split up on less than amiable terms."
"They did, which is going to make this fantasy a real challenge," Leslie conceded. "But Camille was a big fan of theirs too—I just talked with her and Myeko in the café—and she mentioned she might still have the scrapbook she kept on them when we were in high school. She's going to look for it and give me a call."
Christian nodded. "I see. In my experience, a girl doesn't keep a scrapbook about any celebrity unless she has a crush, so I imagine she had a thing for one of the members." He grinned when she snickered, and drew her into a hug. "I'll probably work just half a day here; I have some website-design projects that I can as easily do anywhere as here in the office. I'll join you for lunch and then be around to keep an eye on Anastasia. Speaking of whom—where is she now?"
"Napping at the main house. I should get back there, but Father's there waiting to hear about the arrival of those last two band members, among other things, so she's not unsupervised. Noelle took the triplets to the beach once we got back from the plane dock."
"All right then. I'll see you and the children at lunch," Christian promised and kissed her. "I'm glad you stopped in—you haven't done that very much of late."
She hunched her shoulders a little guiltily. "You're right. Well, I'll try to remedy that. Maybe next time I'll bring Anastasia in and everybody can fawn over her the way they're hanging all over Miss Mallory Pearl Ryerson there."
He laughed and hugged her. "I think everyone would appreciate it. Well enough, my Rose, then have a good morning, and you can give me an update at lunch."
She returned to the main house long enough to check on Anastasia, who to her surprise was wide awake. "Well, hi there! How about you come with Mommy to meet the next plane, huh, sweetie?" She tickled Anastasia under the chin as she had seen Julianne do with Mallory, and to her overjoyed astonishment, Anastasia squirmed and suddenly chortled.
Leslie gasped and lifted the baby from the bassinet, beaming at her. "Was that funny? Come see Grandfather, I bet he'd like to see you smile!"
Roarke brightened as well when the baby reacted the same way to Leslie's chin tickle in front of him. "Make sure you do that for Christian too," he suggested with a smile.
"I plan to, of course," she said, surprised at this comment. "Why do you say that?"
He sighed gently. "You and I need to find time for a talk, but unfortunately this isn't the moment. Go ahead and meet the next plane—but once you've settled our guests, come back here. I'll need you to get ahead on some paperwork while I make a discreet check on Rogan's fantasy, just to be certain it's going smoothly."
"Where's Rogan himself?" Leslie asked.
"He returned to the greenhouse after he sent Mr. Drake back to meet Benjamin Franklin, but it's past time he came back. He has a way of forgetting himself among his plants." His smile was wry; Leslie laughed and took a key from the gold box on the desk, then secured Anastasia in the car seat that had been installed in one of the rovers and drove to the plane dock.
