Chapter 73.

'Ello m'darlings! Apologies for going AWOL without any prior warning; my mental health took a nosedive last week and I've spent most of the last 8 days sprawled on the sofa/bed/floor (doctor's orders). I'm finally back to full strength, so regular chapter updates will re-commence from today.

-x-

With every victory, there came a celebration.

"Well done, lads!" Penelope gushed, striding into the stable block in a cloud of Chanel, "You were fantastic! Oh Scott, the crowd loved you! I managed to steal a quick look at the article Kat Cavanaugh is writing about you for Wanderlust magazine and…well, I won't give too much away, but let's just say that the phrase 'dimpled dreamboat' is used multiple times!"

The mentioned dimples came out in all their spectacular glory as Scott drank in Penelope's words, "Well, I couldn't have done it without my brothers. They should get their share of the credit."

The twinkle in Penelope's eyes dimmed slightly as she scanned the barn, "Where's Virgil? I saw him and Sally disappear at half time, but nobody mentioned where they went."

"Grandma checked us all into a nearby hotel for the night before the match started. She's taken Virgil back there to recover after getting his teeth fixed. Apparently, he's high on painkillers and barely knows who he is," Scott replied, alarming everyone present with his apparent lack of concern over his favourite brother's wellbeing.

Penelope brought a hand to her mouth and coughed delicately to buy the conversation some time. When it became obvious that Scott wasn't going to elaborate further on Virgil's condition, she decided to drop the bomb she'd been charged with carrying, "The government official who helped me organise today's match is planning an after-party for those who know Kayo personally. It's going to be held at his private residence on the outskirts of Hurlingham. Shall I put you boys on the guest list? You only need to show your faces for thirty minutes, tops."

John opened his mouth to voice his reluctance, however was beaten by a socially-deprived Scott.

"Count us in!" the eldest beamed, ignoring Alan's dramatic groan, "And count Virg in too. He should have sobered up by this evening."

The smile that was making itself at home on Penelope's face was positively radiant, "Fantastic! I'm sure Grandma wouldn't appreciate being left out, so I'll add her to the list as well. Have you all got formal attire to hand, or will we need to go on a last minute shopping spree?"

Scott shook his head and offered Delta a carrot, "No need, I can zip home and pick up what we need. One of the perks of flying the fast 'Bird."

"F.A.B," Penelope replied, her cheeks suddenly flushing red, "Um, there's one more thing that I should probably mention ahead of time, just so you can adequately prepare yourselves."

John's head shot up like an overly cautious deer, "What do you mean, adequately prepare ourselves?"

Penelope donned her trademark 'chilled out heiress' face and shook her head playfully, but John wasn't stupid. The way she evasively cast her eyes down at her nails betrayed her discomfort.

"Guests have the option of bringing a plus one if they so desire," their London agent began, her tone deceptively dismissive, "Of course, it's not a stipulation, however I thought I should mention it in case any of you fancy attending with someone on your arm."

Four familiar masks of dread fell into place as Scott, John, Gordon and Alan hastily drew up mental lists of all the women they knew personally.

Kayo – straight A's in all categories except personality. A beautiful bitch of a woman.

Lady P – straight A's in all categories except interior decor. Slightly weird obsession with pug wallpaper and door knockers.

Colonel Casey – hell no.

EOS – warped piece of underage code masquerading as John's daughter/assistant. A skilled bank hacker.

Havoc – HELL NO.

Marion Van Arkel – moody and uranium obsessed.

Aunt Sylvia – problematic age gap.

Ellie Pendergast – married.

Ridley O'Bannon – unknown relationship with John. More research needed.

Professor Moffat – reserved for Brains.

Grandma – no, just….no.

Four Tracy brains did the maths: two out of eleven.

Four Tracy brains calculated the most likely outcome: screwed.

-x-

Three hours later, a shit paddle for the shit kayak that was bobbing down shit creek with four shit scared Tracy brothers onboard had yet to be located.

"Nobody panic!" Scott dramatically announced, "We've still got plenty of time to devise a strategy."

A few feet away, John snorted. How ironic that the man telling them not to panic was the same one who shrieked when his Rice Krispies popped.

"What strategy?" Alan whined, his expression pathetic, "Face it Scott, there just aren't enough girls to go around. Now, I've been giving this some careful thought, and I reckon the fairest and most environmentally friendly option is for you, Virg and John to decline your invites so that Gordo and I can go."

Scott's eyes nearly ejected themselves from his eye sockets, "Excuse me?"

"Hear me out," Alan began, motioning for silence like a priest about to lead a sermon, "You know that I like Kayo and Gordon likes Penny. Why don't you forgo getting us Christmas and birthday presents for the next two years and let us attend in your places instead? I know Kayo's much more likely to say yes if you aren't on the scene."

Scott and John both opened their mouths (Scott to object and John to approve), however were cut off by the arrival of their grandmother.

"Hey boys!" Sally rasped, her trademark smile firmly in place, "Virgil's still dozing upstairs. I've booked us three rooms, so there will have to be some sharing I'm afraid. Are you all ready to head on up?"

John moaned into his hands, a fresh wave of homesickness for Thunderbird Five simmering in his gut.

"Alan dear, you're with Scott and Virgil in the larger room," Sally informed, fishing two key fobs out of her tracksuit pocket, "Gordon and John can take the smaller room straight across the hall."

"What about the third room?" John queried, his copper brows arched in confusion, "You said you'd booked three?"

"The Penthouse Suite is for me," Sally beamed, clenching her fists in excitement, "I've got a date for Kayo's party tonight and I want my own space to get ready in. Plus, it's got a hot tub!"

Four very different eyes bulged for four very different reasons:

Alan, because his grandmother had managed to nab a date before him.

Gordon, because Scott hadn't agreed to Alan's plan.

John, because he'd have to share a room (and potentially) a bed with Gordon once again.

Scott, because his grandmother apparently had a spending problem. Paying desk rate for a penthouse suite in an upmarket hotel on a weekend?!

Poor John meanwhile, was suffering from an extreme case of emotional constipation.

Unlike his brothers, he'd known about the plus one option for several hours. He knew. How did he know? He knew because Ridley O'Bannon had asked him to be her plus one shortly after the conclusion of the polo match.

Apparently, she and Kayo got along pretty darn well.

The redhead felt himself break into a sweat, aware that he was at an important social crossroad. If he turned left, he'd have to don a suit and spend the entire evening faking politeness to a bunch of filthy strangers. If he turned right, he risked alienating a fellow space worker and zero-g handball partner. Oh but how he wanted to turn right…

"Johnny?" Gordon sang, leaning in front of the redhead and waving a hand experimentally in front of his face, "Huh…I think he's in power saving mode."

"O'Bannon asked me to be her date earlier," John blurted, hoping half-heartedly that sharing his predicament would somehow alleviate him of ownership.

An embarrassing silence fell over the room as Gordon ceased his incessant hand waving.

"Wow…" Scott began, uncertain of whether to be murderously jealous or genuinely pleased, "She's not wasting any time, is she?"

Sally's smile grew tenfold as she led her grandsons along a series of corridors towards their rooms, "Fantastic! I've always liked that young lady; well-educated, devoted to her career, and not hard on the eyes either."

"Grandma!" John bleated, his cheeks pooling with blood, "She's just a friend! No need to send out wedding invitations."

"You could both have Gran Roca Ranch, providing she doesn't mind the heat, of course," Sally ploughed on, a contagious snicker breaking loose when John's face froze in terrified anticipation of what he (and everyone else) knew was coming, "I reckon that would be a fine place to raise the children."

Gordon let out a noise that sounded halfway between a squeak and a hiccup as John bulldozed over to the nearest door and promptly disappeared through it.

"Uh, John?" Alan called, glancing at his two remaining brothers in disbelief, "That's a closet."

"I know!" came the muffled reply, "I have stuff to do in here!"

The shadow of parental concern descended over Scott's face, "Such as?"

"Recording fake distress calls so I don't have to accept O'Bannon's invite," came the guiltless response, "Grandma, give me your best hysterical scream."

"Oh, John!" Sally cooed, hunkering down next to the closet door, "It's nice to be wanted!"

A sharp 'thwack' pinged around the room as Scott's palm reintroduced itself to his face.

"Not by the law!"