Disclaimer - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)
I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D
Just a quick note on the language! I'm from the UK so my knowledge of colloquial American speech is pretty limited! Also I tend to use a slightly outdated form of the English language so feel free to ask re. any weird words/terms! :)
Chapter 2 – Introductions
Moving house was always stressful, moving to a new house in another country was even more stressful. Still Freda was determined to make a new life for herself in Chicago; one way or another. The plot of land she'd bought was in a thoroughly run down part of town that looked in need of major redevelopment. She'd designed the house herself and had employed some very bemused builders to make the plans a reality. The result was a timber framed, brick built building after the style of the English Tudor period; although the overall layout was more like a large, sprawling medieval manor. Freda could imagine her Dad's face if he ever saw her current residence, it would be pure gold. So far she'd seen little of the city; and nothing of her singular neighbour. The Last Chance Garage seemed to be a well used business though, judging by the number of vehicles she'd seen going back and forth.
Freda sighed as she stared at the mess she still needed to sort out. Furniture needed moving into permanent positions, crates and boxes still required unpacking and she still hadn't found the crate containing her whisky stash. She'd only finished painting three rooms, the kitchen, the hall and her bedroom; the rest of the house still needed decorating and furnishing. She startled slightly as a wet nose connected with her hand; looking down she smiled at the large, brindle greyhound that stood at her side.
"Well Tam, what do you think?" Freda spoke softly to the goofy-looking dog. Tam cocked his head to one side and shook himself before belting off to another part of the house. Freda rolled her eyes and headed to the kitchen. A spot of baking before unpacking was probably just the thing. The large kitchen was the only room to have really been sorted out properly since moving day. Freda was soon too lost in cooking to care about unpacking any more.
Charley lay curled up in a ball by the window, every now then a sob would wrack her body. It had only been a couple of hours since the guys left and she already regretted her words. She looked out of the window and struggled to her feet when she saw the dog in her yard. A small, white and brown spotted greyhound type; that was currently engaged in going through her trash can, Charley ran downstairs. She was surprised at how ridiculously easy it was to catch the dog; the delicate creature just ran over wagging her tail pathetically. Charley looked into the dog's soft, brown eyes and started crying all over again. Twenty minutes later a very red eyed Charley stood on the doorstep of her new neighbour's house. Breathing deeply she knocked and waited. The dog wagged its tail as the door opened and trotted in quite happily.
"Hello!" A female voice greeted Charley cheerfully. "Come on in."
"Oh I don't want to be a nuisance – I just bought the dog back, she was in my garbage." Charley explained miserably.
"Heh – come in anyway, you look like you need company and I'm guessing you don't have any at the garage." The young woman answered with a smile as she pulled Charley in gently. She had a very definite British accent; the house and its furnishings suddenly made more sense in the mechanics mind. The door closed softly and Charley stood open mouthed at the beauty of the building; wood panelling ran round the lower walls of the hallway and a pretty green paint covered the plasterwork above. The staircase was positively imposing and led up to a galleried landing. Her new neighbour was quite pretty after a fashion, dark brown eyes and hair with a deep tan coloured skin tone. She was tall and slim with strong muscles over her arms and shoulders; her dress was casual, jeans and a t-shirt with stout boots. Looks like she keeps pretty fit somehow Charley thought to herself as she studied her neighbour's musculature.
"Sorry about the mess, still haven't unpacked properly – really bad I know – I'm Freda by the way." The young woman waved absently at the boxes, packing cases and paint pots before leading Charley down the hall to the kitchen. "Please tell me you were joking about where you found Kizzy?!"
"Nope, she was in the trash cans." Charley replied softly, before belatedly adding, "I'm Charlene by the way, but everyone calls me Charley."
"Cool! Your name that is – not my disreputable mutt's sorry behind being in the dustbin!" Freda laughed. "She really is quite revolting at times!"
"She's such a beautiful dog! I was surprised at how friendly she was." Charley murmured looking round the huge kitchen. Freda evidently loved cooking; the amount of space was amazing; the kitchen also seemed to be very much the heart of Freda's house. On one side of the room wooden chairs stood near an old fashioned fireplace, cushions nearly spilling onto the floor. A door led into the living room; with an inglenook fireplace next to that, old fashioned wooden settles making for a cosy communal area. The main feature of the kitchen had to be the tables dominating the centre of the room; racks of cookies were cooling, giving off a delicious aroma. A more modern range cooker stood the other side of the room next to a door leading off to another room.
"Huh – Kizzy is too friendly! Anyone broke into the house they'd get licked to death!" Freda chuckled breaking Charley's reverie. "Tea or coffee?"
"Oh – coffee please." Charley replied, continuing to gaze around the large room. A beautiful wooden dresser caught her eye, making her green with envy at the blue and white porcelain dinner service displayed there. There were several dog beds near the range by the side door along with a messy pile of toys.
"So you run the garage on your own?" Freda asked suddenly.
"Yup, just me." Charley nodded. "Um, so, you're from the UK?"
"Uh-huh, England born and bred me; fancied a brand new start away from everything so I wound up here. Of course I ended up moving my entire crew over." Freda grinned.
"Crew? You have family?" Charley asked curiously.
"Lorks!" Freda looked around startled. "Phew! No we're safe – no family!"
"I'm guessing you and your folks don't get on then?" Charley laughed.
"Nope – at least not for the most part, my Dad and his folks are ok; but my Mom's family – urrrgh! Nah the crew is the dogs mainly – plus a few extras," Freda shrugged and handed Charley a cup of coffee. She indicated a rather beaten up old sofa by the French doors overlooking the garden at the back of the house; having evicted the sofa's occupying greyhound they sat down.
"So how many dogs do you have?" Charley asked cautiously.
"Well Kizzy you've met; the couch potato we just evicted is Falcon; asides from that I have a dozen others." Freda waved a hand casually.
"Are they all greyhounds?" Charley asked with a laugh as Falcon began rubbing her elongated head across Charley's abdomen.
"Predominantly, though I own a few other breeds as well." Freda nodded. "Kizzy's greyhound x saluki for a start."
"Wow – I thought for sure she was a greyhound!" Charley stared in open mouthed amazement at Kizzy who had stretched out in a patch of sun. Freda shook her head.
"Well don't let anyone convince you it's a good cross! It's a demon sent from the very gates of hell – especially when she gets loose! Think a greyhound's speed with the stamina of a saluki – yeah she'll go all day if I let her." Freda groused good-naturedly.
"So – why choose this neighbourhood?" Charley asked curiously.
"Honestly? I don't know – apart from the fact the land was dirt cheap and well - I didn't want to spend a fortune." Freda sounded somewhat sheepish. "Besides a house like this wouldn't fit in so well in other locales – it doesn't even fit in here!"
"And you don't know anyone here in Chi-town?"
"Yeah I know one person."
"Who?"
"There's a really great mechanic called Charlene who I feel like I've known forever!" Freda grinned impishly. Charley laughed and sighed.
"Some friends of mine were a bit suspicious about you." Charley blushed. "They were worried you were in with a corrupt business man."
"Wouldn't be called Limburger would he?" Freda asked in a low voice that dripped with dangerous undertones.
"Yeah." Charley sighed, she'd been hoping Freda knew nothing about Limburger.
"Hmph – I'd barely signed the deeds to the land and he and his cronies were all over me wanting to purchase it! Hasn't left off since – last time that big, greasy lunatic showed up Squash bit him!" Freda shook her head. "If your friends have any doubts the title deeds and the corresponding documents are between me and the previous owner – who wasn't named Limburger. This land was slated for redevelopment – the land agent said it might be worth a try on the purchase front. I tried and I got!"
"Phew! You had me worried there for a second – who's Squash?" Charley asked.
"Huh – oh Squash is an Alaskan Malamute cross. Lovely natured lady normally, but something about that lunatic rubbed her up the wrong way." Freda shook her head. "I'm still thanking heaven he didn't send the cops round!"
"He wouldn't." Charley shook her head. "Not unless his boss Limburger told him to."
"Well that's a relief." Freda sighed before jumping up and running to the oven. "Cookies!"
Charley looked over curiously; she'd seen the cooling cookies and had smelt something still baking but hadn't really paid much attention.
"So – who upset you so much?" Freda called as she whipped the trays out of the oven and set the cookies to cool.
"My friends getting completely paranoid over my new neighbour." Charley looked so depressed that Freda didn't have the heart to be offended at the blunt admission.
"Oh – afraid I'd have a broomstick under the stairs and be in cahoots with old Lousewart?" Freda enquired.
"Something like that – Lousewart? Never heard Limburger called that before!" Charley grinned wickedly. "Though it kinda suits him!"
"Heh – my name for him!" Freda jerked a thumb toward herself with a grin. She tossed Charley a cookie and came back to the sofa munching one herself. Charley bit in to the still hot cookie and groaned appreciatively at the still melted chocolate.
"Freda – you are a bad, bad woman!" Charley sighed.
"Don't I know it?" Freda retorted as she licked melted chocolate from her thumb. "Chocolate always makes stuff better. Fancy another one?"
Charley nodded grinning broadly.
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