Disclaimer with apologies to Herman and the Hermits, "I'm Henry the eighth I am. Henry the eighth I am, I am. I got married to the widow next door and she'd been married seven times before. Every one was a Henry. Never a Willy or a Sam. No Sam. I'm her eighth old man named Henry. Henry the eighth I am. Second Verse Same as the first."

Well that, my friends, is my disclaimer. I don't own diddle or squat, just the scribbles below.

A/N: This is my favorite tacky/tawdry tidbit. Some day it might be continued. Then again, maybe not.

Let's and Say We Didn't 10
Frederick Rodriguez
by Alfonsina

"Sold to Mac McKenzie for thirty-dollars."

The gavel slammed on the desk and the sound rang in Samantha's ears.

Great. Just great. She'd been goaded into volunteering for this fiasco by her sister, Betsy, who been sold for fifteen-thousand dollars. At least the money was going to go to charity. The March of Dimes could use the money. Samantha would probably give them the fifty dollars she had in her wallet on her way out of the building.

She was relieved she hadn't remained unsold. That had been her greatest fear. This was her second greatest fear; she'd been auctioned off for a weekend for two and got the lowest sales price on record. The record was forty years old!

Mac McKenzie, her boss and tormentor, bought her for less than she paid for his boss's day present last month. Next year his gift was going to come from the dollar store's discount bin.

How much more perfect could her life get? He was over fifty, balding, and married. He had no reason to attend one of these things in the first place. She really hoped he didn't want a romantic weekend to go along with this. How would she ever face him come Monday? What would her next performance review look like? Oh, God.

As she walked off the stage, she ran face first smack into the back of a man who was sex on a stick. Wavy blond hair, massive shoulders, high likelihood of a tight rear end.

Samantha knew that back anywhere. Little Mackie McKenzie. He'd visited his father's office for years and had just graduated college. Seemed that 'little' no longer applied to Mackie. Not one single part of his scrumptious body.

"Sammy, hey! So good to see you!" he said.

Perfect. Could she just die right now? Somebody? Anybody? Please? At least she hadn't smeared too much of her lipstick on the back of his tux jacket. And the drool was hardly noticeable.

"Mac, how are you? Sorry about that. I didn't see you until I was on top of you." Ooh how she had wished that were true and in the biblical sense. Not that she was ever going to be on his radar, but she could dream.

"No problem. I was going to ask them for your number. I wanted to set up our weekend."

Our weekend. She quit breathing. So what if she was six years older than he was? Who cared that she wasn't model thin or that her curves were a little on the overly generous side? It didn't matter that she couldn't see her hand in front of her face if she took off her glasses.

"Yeah. I just started a business and I wanted to work on it this weekend and I knew you'd be perfect for the job. That's why I bid on you. You game?" He was indeed the only man who had bid on her.

"Sure." A weekend alone with little Mackie might be the thing to help her change careers and have him see her in a new light. She might be doing some web design. Go through his marketing plans. She might be looking into strategic partnerships. She might …

"Cool. It's a junk hauling business and this weekend I've got a really rundown house on the other side of town to clear out before the city condemns it. It should be two or three dumpsters worth of stuff. Not counting the stuff we can salvage and send to some consignment places."

"Perfect." Welcome to romance.

"I'm still shocked that I could get you so cheaply. I mean, by the time we're done this weekend, I won't even be out minimum wage." She figured he'd be paying about fifty-cents an hour by the time the weekend was over. He got one heck of a bargain.

Perfect. As much as she wanted to give the March of Dimes her fifty to make up for her embarrassing shortfall, she knew she'd need it for a massage when this was all over.

~x~x~

Five times. Vinnie called Connie's cell phone five times in an hour to find out how she was. Had he been to the Indian casino in Connecticut again? How much money had he lost this time? How much would he pay her to keep her mouth shut?

"Good. You're alive." Vinnie said when she finally answered. "Anything I need to report to Harry?"

"I've got tests scheduled for tomorrow, so I won't be in until after lunch."

"What kind of tests?"

"As my employer, you can't ask me those kinds of questions." Not to mention it was none of his damn business.

"As your former brother-in-law I can."

"When pigs fly, Vinnie. I'll be in tomorrow after lunch." If she came in at all. Connie turned off her cell phone and shoved it into the deepest bowels of her purse.

"That went well," Stephanie said. "You're going to have to tell him some time."

"Not until all of the tests are in. No way. That piss-ant has the biggest mouth in the tri-state area."

"I'll go with you for the blood work and the ultrasounds," Stephanie said. "You might need some moral support."

"It's not like I've never had my blood drawn before and the ultrasound is never a big deal. They're just uncomfortably slimy."

"I'm here for you, no matter what." Stephanie tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm just glad I'm not in your shoes."

"I've got plenty of shoes to spare. Sure you don't want mine right now?" Connie asked. "Lifestyle change was bound to happen one way or the other."

"Yeah, but still. It's a shock." Stephanie used Connie as a barometer. A two year barometer. They had similar background and were close enough in age. If something like this had caught Connie this unaware, Stephanie knew she had plenty of lifestyle changes she could make in her own life. Maybe she should make an appointment with her own doctor. Then again, she could deny things as well as Connie, better even. Maybe her lifestyle would never cause her a moment of discomfort.

"Let's go to the beach."

"It's a crap day, Connie." The day was cloudy and miserable in Trenton and it probably wouldn't be much better at Point Pleasant. "I don't think there'll be any hotties at the beach today."

"Probably not. Even if we went to Sandy Hook, we would probably only see wrinkled old men." Sandy Hook was a sometimes nude beach that was less than a tank of gas away. When Vinnie was beyond annoying, Connie, Lula, and Stephanie had been known to go there and pick out men on the beach and imagine what clothes they'd look good in. So few of the beach goers looked good in nature's finest.

"That'd be enough to make you lose your lunch." Connie forced a smile. "Sorry, already done that."

"Well, if you're going to be okay on your own this afternoon, I think I'll go after Alexander Sweeny."

"His bond expires in three days. You've got time. He's old and slow. It takes him longer to unzip his fly than to tell you he's going to do it."

"Yeah, but he's wily for a ninety year-old. He put denture adhesive in my car locks and my ignition switch the last time I took him in. I had to take a cab to get him to the station."

"Al at the repair place must have had a good time with that."

"Yeah." Stephanie didn't want to admit that the only cuffs she could find for Alexander had been pink and fury from a weekend of adventure when she had while she was still a lingerie buyer. Then again, she hadn't had to put up with any slack at the PD; everyone thought she'd used them with Joe and gave him crap about it. He wouldn't talk to her for a week after that. Maybe she could use those again the next time she needed some emotional distance. At the station. Right. That's what she meant, she'd present those handcuffs at the police station and get distance from those she loved and get closer to those she didn't want to know all that well. Maybe she should just throw them away.

~x~x~

Late afternoon …

"I know you haven't moved all the way in yet," Cal Harrington said. "But I'd really like to thank you for doing this for me . I know it's kind of a rush. But Slick and I want to check out Hell Fire before Delores's family gets here." The new/old biker bar in town. New in that management was new and the clientele had been cleaned up some, everything else about it was well worn.

He pulled out one of the folding chairs at the little card table and gawked at the still life before him. The table was covered with bottles, boxes, bowls, brushes, and a halogen work lamp. The whole thing reminded him of when he was a kid and his mom used to highlight his sisters' hair before special occasions. He couldn't believe he was doing this. Again. If he ever made up his mind, he'd go to a tattoo shop and have some permanent art put on his body. Until then, every few weeks, he'd bug Frederick to do something for him.

"Cal, did you remember to exfoliate before you came over?" Frederick asked as he opened the box of henna powder and dumped it into a small glass bowl.

"Yep, I used that stuff you sold me last month. My skin's never felt better. Oh, and I shaved about an hour ago," Cal said. He ran his left hand over his scalp still adjusting to the smooth skin. Until he panicked about premature balding and shaved his head two months ago, Cal had had a thick head reddish blond hair. "I had my brother make a stencil of the design I want this time. Not that you don't freehand some great stuff, but I really know what I want this time."

"That's fine. So what are we doing? And where are we doing it?"

Cal passed Frederick a stencil of a coiled snake. "This. And I was serious about putting it on my forehead. Can you refresh the sunburst on my bicep when you're finished?"

"Whatever makes you happy, man. Just tell me why you want to mark your face? Been watching the National Geographic Channel again?"

"Easy. I got tired of high maintenance women who wouldn't hang with me unless I was up to their standards. I finally found one who likes me for me, but now her family is coming to town and I want them to leave me alone. Delores says she loves me even though I look too much like Mr. Clean."

"This is your litmus test?" Frederick asked pointing at the snake stencil. "Fake tattoos?"

"Sure. They wear off in a couple of weeks. It's not that big a deal."

"If you like it, are you going to make it permanent?"

"Hell no," Cal said with a shudder. "I'm afraid of needles. No woman is worth the expense and pain of a tattoo. I don't think I want to do something for a woman I might want to marry, but we're not to that stage yet. Besides, if you think about it, how am I going to look in the nursing home with some lame-ass tattoo on my forehead? It wouldn't be pretty. Now a picture of my grandma on my shoulder looking over me might be a different story. Maybe. But I'd have to be heavily medicated in order to do it."

"As long as you're happy. But the next time, you're paying for beer and pizza." Frederick snapped on a pair of latex gloves. "Let's do this."

"Do you have to wear those things? It reminds me of getting checked for a hernia."

"I don't relish the idea of staining my hands with this stuff," Frederick said. "It's not like I'm asking you to drop your pants, turn your head and cough. Now if Caesar were here, I'm sure he'd volunteer to do it if you asked nicely."

"Pass."

"Good. Now sit and rest your face in your palm and get comfortable."

"Can you do the sunburst on my arm first first? I want to ask you something and I don't want you to mess up the art."

"No problem. Take off your shirt, I don't want to stain it."

After Cal had no more than lifted the shirt over his head, the door flung open.

"Lucy, I'm home," Caesar called. "Before I head out to Bun Huggers and Friction, I just wanted to drop off some-" He ran his finger around the neck of his shirt and said, "Sorry."

"Just doing a touch up for Cal," Frederick said. "Do you want him to stay or go, Cal?"

"Doesn't matter. Hey, JC." Cal tilted his head toward Caesar as he pulled his t-shirt off his arms.

"What are you doing here?" Frederick asked.

"Never mind. I'm interrupting. I'll go." Caesar was looking more and more uncomfortable. "We need to talk about Claude. Maybe tomorrow over lunch?"

"I've got a Rotary meeting during lunch. I still have to check out that gym before I make the presentation in a couple of days. We can workout and talk before work."

"Do they have a steam room?" Caesar asked.

"How would I know?" Frederick said.

"You are beyond boring, but I'll go with you and we can carpool," Caesar said.

"If you're that worried about the steam room, we'll take separate cars. Meet me there at six-thirty."

"Is this the new gym about two miles from the office?" Cal asked.

"Yeah," Frederick said. "They are trying to revitalize the neighborhood so the owners bought the land cheap, but they need security for their clients when they leave."

"No steam room," Cal said.

Frederick swabbed the old sunburst with alcohol and fanned it dry. He dipped the paintbrush into the bowl and said, "Hold still."

"And how do you know?" Caesar asked.

"My brother-in-law was the contractor." Cal fidgeted. "That shit tickles. I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

"You're the one who doesn't want a real tattoo. Suck it up and sit still," Frederick said.

"Fine." Cal sat up, rolled his shoulders and sighed before he returned to his position.

"I was going to call over for subs tonight. Anyone else want to place an order? CJ you want to pick up? We'll be here a while until it dries."

"I'll buy. It's the least I owe you." Call reached for his wallet and produced a fifty. "See if they have any of those salads with the cranberries and apple chunks and the special vinaigrette. Oh and a small diet soda. If they do, I'll have that."

"If not?" Caesar asked.

"If not, I'll have three half-pound burgers, two orders of onion rings and large strawberry shake. I'm watching my waistline."

~x~x~

That same night …

"I was going to tell you over the phone. When you went on your next trip out of town." Caesar said as the last of the moving boxes had been broken down. "We should probably put these over by the garage."

"Spit it out. I want to know about Claude and I want to know now," Frederick said.

"He's my son. Or he will be when he's born in a couple of weeks."

"A baby? You're going to have a baby?" As Frederick shook his head all of the color drained from his face. "You're sure?"

"Pretty much. Signs are all there. You'd be a fool not to know or notice. Everyone else has figured it out."

"Then call me a fool. I had no idea." Frederick let out a long sigh as he ripped a box in half. "So now what?"

"You've been out of town a lot and I haven't known how to broach it. Hey, you owe me money for that box. I had to pay for that one."

"Forget about the damn box. Tell me about the baby."

Caesar said, "I really wish I told you this over the phone, it would have been so much easier."

"For you maybe. Not for me. Out with it, now. Who's the mother?"

"You remember Sharon Papas?" Caesar shrugged.

"How, exactly did you hook up with Sharon Papas?" Frederick asked. "We dated briefly a year ago. She was a nice girl." Sharon pushed for a commitment and kids before the third date, Frederick was ready for marriage but wanted to know little things like her favorite color and her birthday before he married her. He was looking for courtship and a little romance before the plunge. At the time, she wanted instant gratification and a gold band.

"It was all very casual. Mutual friends and all of that." He pushed the lid down on the garbage can.

"That's when we started hanging out watching old movies late at night. She loved the Crying Game especially the part where Fergus doesn't realize Dil's a guy until after he gets a blow-"

"You knew she was female."

"Yeah, but I had no idea a woman could give such spectacular head. I mean, I felt like the top of my-"

"Way too much information."

"Anyway, one night months ago, we both had too much to drink and she said she wanted to convert me. After six or seven beers, I thought she meant she wanted me to become Buddhist* like her. She said she chanted a lot about it, me and the law of cause and effect."

"I take it that wasn't what she meant?"

"Definitely not. Living life through beer goggles sometimes sucks and so does Sharon."

"Keep going. I'd like to start my own life before I have to potty train your kid."

"Okay. A couple of months later, she told me she was pregnant and she knew she couldn't raise the kid on her own. She had plans that didn't include a baby."

Frederick looked at his watch. "Can you get to the point before all of my hair goes grey, I lose my hearing, and I die of old age?"

"Fine. She said she doesn't want to put her life on hold for a baby. But she wants to know who will raise it and at least expose the kid to the SGI*."

"What about open adoption? You could both know who was raising him? You did say it's a boy, right?"

"It's a boy. How can I not want to raise my own son?"

"That's what broke you and Victor up. He was ready and you weren't. Now you suddenly are?"

"Yeah, but I can't do it alone. I burned my bridges with Victor when I told him we couldn't be a family. Rver."

"Fifty cents for a condom could have saved you from a lot of heartache," Frederick said. "Not to mention all of the changes that are coming down the pipeline now."

"That's where you come in. I want you to help me raise Claude."

"Seriously? Claude? Why are you naming him Claude? What about Sharon? And why do I want to raise your child? You are mostly a kid yourself."

"Her dream is to be part of the Peace Corps. She committed to it before, well before." Caesar looked a little sheepish. "She'll be leaving in about three months and doesn't plan to come home for a couple of years. A baby really wasn't part of her life plan. At least not right now."

"So she's just leaving? Is she going to give up parental rights?" Frederick ran his fingers through his hair. The last thing he could imagine was giving up a child he'd helped bring into the world. If he knew he'd fathered a baby, he wouldn't care what the relationship was like with the mother. He'd be there for his kid in every way possible. Period.

"Yeah. I've been to the attorney with her. It's what she wants. And I think it is what I want. I just don't want to do this alone." Whining was not a good look on Caesar and was losing him his case.

"And you expect me to jump in and help?"

"I really need your help. I can't do this alone and I'm not moving to New Mexico to have my mom help me out. Hell, I don't even know how to change a diaper. Please?"

"No. No way. Absolutely not. This is not my problem or my responsibility." A few hours ago Frederick couldn't believe when Caesar had so willingly volunteered to do the updating on the rental while expecting nothing in exchange, only to find out what the true price was really going to be. Shit.

"Please? You already do the baby thing, right? I mean the guys don't want to hire babysitters anymore if they know you can watch their kids on Boys' Night Out."

"Haven't you realized that Boys' Night is only a few hours once a month? This is a lifetime commitment."

"Tell me something else I don't know."

"Sure. Claude is Sharon's dad's name. He died of cancer a couple of years ago. She wanted his name would live on through her." Caesar broke down another box. "I already told her I'd raise it and she can have visitation whenever she wants it."

"But you said you didn't want to have a family."

"I've changed my mind. I didn't think I wanted it and now I realize just how much I do."

"Perfect. That's why we've living in a three bedroom house in a family oriented neighborhood. So you can start your family?"

"I'm gonna need help and you're great with babies."

"I'm going out for a drive. A very long drive. I'm going to look for a new place to live." Frederick stormed toward his car.

"I'm sorry."

"Bullshit." Frederick whirled around to look at Caesar. "I'm not going to be the father to the baby of a one nightstand that is only vaguely remembered through beer goggles because someone couldn't be bothered to use a condom." He yelled the words so loudly they could probably have been heard two counties over.

*SGI-USA is a lay Buddhist organization in the United States. SGI-USA (.) ORG

The origins of the SGI-USA worldview can be traced to the teachings of the historical Shakyamuni Buddha, who lived some 2,500 years ago in what is modern-day Nepal. Born Gautama Siddhartha, he abandoned his sheltered, princely life and sought instead to understand the inescapable sufferings of every human being — birth, aging, sickness and death — and the means by which these sufferings could be overcome. The term Buddha, or "enlightened one," is applied to any human being who realizes the eternity of life and the operation of cause and effect throughout the three existences of past, present and future.

A/N: Unlike other pieces, we won't spend a lot of time/energy/emotion on the SGI - but it will be a minor background in the piece.

Thanks as always for reading/reviewing/and hanging out with Freddy ... he's not a bad guy and he's developing a backbone. Alf.