(Author's Notes: I'm going to apologize now. When I read this chapter to my husband, he said it was the worst chapter of the story. I'll admit, he's right, but I'm not offended. I felt that every chapter I've put out has been great, so having this the low point of the story isn't bad. I also focused a lot on minute details, which I cut back on during my edits, so this chapter is shorter than it originally was. Sometimes, I have to write a chapter that transitions from one good part to another. However, according to my husband, the story picks up after this.

The Tokyolk story arc isn't my favorite, but I have my reasons for writing it, especially for character development. I am mostly concentrating on Charity and Jim's relationship as well as developing Gladstone's character in preparation for the sequel (yeah, I'm planning that far ahead for Mr. Gander).

I hope you enjoy the chapter.)

Twisted Strings of Fate

Chapter 31

Remember the story of the ant and the grasshopper? Not the original version where the grasshopper died of the cold when the ants wouldn't help him. No, the child-friendly one where the grasshopper "learns" his lesson and is saved by the kindness of the ants.

I always found that one ironic. The story is trying to teach children to be hard-working like the ants but also to show kindness to people, which is great. But the other lesson is through the grasshopper's point-of-view, to not procrastinate and always be prepared. And here's where irony steps in: grasshoppers only live one year. So while those hard-working ants are using their precious resources on the lazy grasshopper to save his life and hope that he learns his lesson, in reality, they're just making him comfortable until he dies on them in a few weeks.

That grasshopper didn't learn a lesson. He got to play around all his life, never took responsibility for anything because he knew he had a short life. And when he was at the end of his life, he took advantage of kind strangers and was able to die in comfort

I gotta say, as someone who identifies with the ants, I would have wished that some kid had pulled the legs off that grasshopper.

Gladstone poked his beak into the suite. Mrs. Beakley finally had abandoned her sentinel stance, which meant that he could interrupted the lovebird and her little love birds. How one girl got four grown men wrapped around her finger was beyond him.

Oh, that curse was a doozy that's for sure. Perhaps there was more to the curse than what everyone else thought. Maybe it turned men into ninnies. That theory might have pulled water if he hadn't witnessed his family as well. His uncle, his cousins, and even the children were quite taken with the girl. They weren't as enamored as those four fools, but they could have been bewitched for all Gladstone knew.

Well, whatever was happening to his family, he wasn't going to step into the same trap, that's for sure. He was still going to be Gladstone Gander, luckiest guy in the world, at the end of the day.

As he walked into the suite, he found the five smooshed on the glamorous couch, watching TV. Charity was almost hidden by the broad shoulders of Launchpad and Drake, and the rest of her had burrowed into her panda bear hoodie so only her face could be seen. Despite the red, puffy eyes and sniffling once in a while, she looked as happy as a sleepy cat.

"It's time for you to pay the piper," Gladstone said, tapping his Rolex. "If you want the orb, then you need to do your part."

Four sets of eyes glared at him.

Okay, he was exaggerating. The pilot, the nerdy guy and the psychopath merely looked his way, but the fourth guy—Drake—could have glared enough for all four of them.

Charity wiggled herself free from between the two males. She put her hands in the hoodie pocket, looking more like a teenager than a grown woman, and asked, "Okay, where are we going?"

"We're not going anywhere until you take a shower and put on more appropriate clothing," Gladstone said, pushing Charity out of the suite and toward the one the girls had taken. "Della's cleaning up right now."

Charity frowned, looking down at her hoodie as if taking offense for Gladstone's words. However, she pulled at the sweater and took a sniff, wincing. "Good idea."

The girl didn't complain or argue, that she at least had going toward her. Della had spent five minutes grumbling and arguing before taking Gladstone's orders.

He, on the other hand, had jumped into the shower the second they had arrived at the hotel. How anyone could sit around in traveling clothes was beyond him.

With the lovebird and his cousin getting ready, Gladstone had one last thing to do before he took the girls out. He sought out his uncle, who was grumbling about how could a hotel make a profit by keeping such luxurious rooms vacant for most of the year. All that space and luxury, they could have fit several dozen smaller rooms instead.

"You do realize that the money from the penthouse not to mention the room service and other amenities that the people who stay here pay for make more money than the other rooms, even when they're vacant most of the year?" Gladstone asked.

Scrooge looked surprised, either from the information or that Gladstone knew it.

Of course Gladstone knew such trivial information. He may not have held a job ever in his life, but he had come to understand just how much his luck was worth each individual day. He had spent plenty of time in penthouse suites all over the world in the finest hotels.

"Let's get down to business, shall we uncle?" Gladstone suggested, sitting down in a chair. "You know the basics of my…problem, so I'll tell you the details." He pulled out his phone and showed his uncle a picture. "This is Torataro Yamaguchi. He's the boss of the Tokyolk Yakuza, and the one you'll be talking to."

Scrooge scrutinized the digital pic of a tiger in a dark kimono. He pressed his beak tight together, sensing that things weren't going to be easy. He had dealt with tigers before. They tended to be ruthless when it came to business, and something told him that this time wouldn't be the exception. The last time he had made a deal with a tiger, he had walked away from Shere Khan and Cape Suzette unsure if he had had the upper hand or not.

"Now I hope that you've learned by now how to not antagonize someone who can and will kill you if you irritate him too much," Gladstone said, taking his phone back.

"This sounds a whole lot bigger of a favor than the one you're giving," Scrooge grumbled. "Ack, don't worry. I'll talk to him with a silver tongue, and goodness knows that won't cost me a cent."

Gladstone—for once—looked worried. "Please, just reason with him. At least get him to rescind my death warrant until we can work something out."

"Are you sure you're safe going out tonight?" Scrooge asked with one skeptical eye on his nephew.

"Please, this is me we're talking about," Gladstone said with a smirk. "I'll be fine. Oh, but you don't need to wait up for me. The girls and I will be back very late."

"That's all well and fine for you, but what are we going to do about the children."

Gladstone had been unaware that Mrs. Beakley was also in the room. How a woman that tall could be so inconspicuous as to be almost invisible was beyond him.

"Huh?" Gladstone asked.

"The children. We can't take them to go see a Yakuza boss," Mrs. Beakley said, hands on her hips. "Mr. McDuck will need some backup, but those that stay with the children can't be expected to stay in the hotel room all day."

Gladstone waved his hand as if this were a trivial matter. "Can't they just watch TV? Kids like TV."

"We're in Japan. It's a wonder they aren't already on the streets right now," Mrs. Beakley said.

"I'm sure something will come up," Gladstone said, adjusting his clothing in the mirror.

Just as he said that, a knock came at their door. A bellboy stood by the open door with an envelope on a silver platter.

"Uh…is one of you Gladstone Gander?' the bellboy asked.

"Right here," Gladstone said, raising his hand. He tore into the envelope and smiled, holding out what looked to be tickets of some kind. "And here we have it. Four children and two adult tickets to Disneyland. That should do it."

"Now to determine who stays behind," Mrs. Beakley said, looking more surprised than Scrooge had ever seen her.

Gladstone's luck could do that to anyone.

Scrooge gathered the group together—except for Charity who was still showering—and showed the tickets. The triplets were practically bouncing off the walls at the news while Webby was mimicking their excitement without understanding what the big deal was.

"Who's going with the kids?" Mrs. Beakley asked, holding out the tickets.

"Oooo, me. Me!" Della shouted, waving her hand.

"You can't go. You're coming with me," Gladstone said, pulling his cousin's hand out of the air.

"Ah, phooey. I don't get to go to Disneyland. I don't get to meet a Yakuza boss. I never get to do anything fun," Della complained.

"What about you, Launchpad? You seem the type that would enjoy this kind of outing," Mrs. Beakley suggested.

Launchpad scratched the back of his head. "I really would love to go, Mrs. B, but I can't. Charity would be angry if I went without her," he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his new jacket.

"I'll go," Jim volunteered.

The children's eyes widened.

"Ehhh," Scrooge, Mrs. Beakley, and Della said at the same time.

"That might not be a good idea," Mrs. Beakley announced.

"And having Negaduck go meet a Yakuza boss is?" Jim wondered with a shrug.

"I thought Negaduck was gone," Huey said, giving Starling a wary glance.

"He's still here," Jim said. "I've been calm so far, but I don't want to be anywhere…violent if you catch my drift."

"Well, then I guess going to the happiest place on earth will keep you calm," Mrs. Beakley said. "How about you, Donald? Care to spend some time with your nephews."

Donald gave his sister a big grin. "I would be delighted," he said, although he didn't care about going to the amusement park. He just liked to tease his sister.

"Then it's settled. The rest of us will go with Mr. McDuck to meet Mr. Torataro," Mrs. Beakley said, looking over at Drake, Launchpad, and Fenton. They would suffice as backup for Mr. McDuck.

"Come on, Uncle Donald," Dewey shouted, pulling the duck toward the elevator. "The park has already opened, and I want to have as much time going on rides as I possibly can."

The triplets pushed and prodded Donald while Webby and Jim took up the rear, disappearing into the elevator.

As the rest of the group listened to Gladstone give them directions to meet with Torataro, Charity entered with her hair still a little damp but decent, wearing jeans and her nicest sweater.

After Gladstone finished his spill, he eyed her, looking disappointed. "I thought I told you to put on something nice."

"This is nice," Charity said, bristling. It wasn't like she was wearing rags. "And to be fair, you didn't tell me what kind of clothes to pack, so this is what I've got."

Gladstone groaned. "I was at least hoping you'd at least have slacks or a dress."

"I don't even own a dress," Della said, standing next to Charity defensively.

"I already knew that about you, cousin. I had set the bar low on my expectations, but I hoped for more from her," Gladstone said with a sigh. "But I guess I'll have to take what I can get."

"Why does it matter how I dress? What are we doing?" Charity asked, hands on her hips.

"Look, where we're going, they won't let you in if you're wearing Wal-mart chic and thrift store hand-me-downs," Gladstone explained cryptically. "But as you said, it doesn't matter what you wear now because you two are getting a make-over."

"A what?" Della cried out, her face twisted as if he had suggested something disgusting.

Charity remained silent, seeming perfectly fine with this suggestion.

"Now, cousin. Don't diss it until you try it," Gladstone said, taking Della by the shoulders and leading her to the elevator.

In a short while, they were on the streets with Gladstone leading them in a determined direction. Several blocks away, he turned into an upscale salon, dragging Della behind him, and was welcomed by several male and female employees. He spoke to them in Japanese, exchanging hugs, kisses and bows. After a few minutes, eyes flittered from Della to Charity and back to Gladstone.

Speaking in English, Gladstone said, "This is my cousin, Della Duck. She's the one who lived on the moon for ten years."

Several looked impressed at this accomplishment.

"Did you find the rabbit that lives there and eat mooncakes?" one young raccoon asked with an impish smile.

Della smiled at that. "Naw, all I had to eat was black licorice flavored bubble gum," she said with a shrug.

"And this is Charity Loveatte," Gladstone said, pointing to the lovebird.

Her name got a bigger reaction than from Della. Chattering in Japanese, it sounded as if everyone was asking Gladstone several questions all at once. The half-goose calmed them with gestures before answering in English.

"Yes, she's the one from the YouTube videos," he said with a smirk.

Charity wished she could disappear. Perhaps she should have told Gladstone not to have mentioned that, but it didn't occur to her until now.

Soon, questions were fired at her, and she took a step back.

"I'm sorry. I don't speak Japanese," Charity said with a polite smile.

"You can ask her all the questions you want, but while you work," Gladstone said. "I've come to cash in all my favors. You need to make these two beautiful by tonight."

"Of course, Gladstone," the group of salon employees chirped.

A male fox, the boss of the group, asked, "Anything specific?"
"Whatever it takes. The works," Gladstone said with folded arms. "And don't let them say 'no' to anything."

"Hey, wait a minute," Della called out, grabbing her cousin's sleeve. "What does that mean? What are they going to do?"

"You might have to hold this one down," Gladstone said, smirking at Della. "She really needs the help."

Della reached out with the intent of doing harm, looking very much like her twin brother, but the salon employees snatched her in such a strong hold, the female duck could have sworn they were all ninjas.

Charity, on the other hand, meekly followed a female cat farther into the salon. She had seen these kinds of movies. In all honesty, she was curious about what a full-treatment make-over would be like. She wasn't afraid of anything they wanted to do to her as long as it wasn't permanent or didn't involve injecting her with anything.

The cat, who introduced herself as Haruki, first asked Charity to change into a short-sleeve robe. "So that we can treat your feathers easier," Haruki explained. After that, she directed Charity into a chair and set her feet and hands soaking in warm water to prepare for a mani-pedi. Haruki then reclined the chair so that Charity's long, curly hair fell into a sink.

Feeling relaxed, Charity closed her eyes as warm water soaked her hair thoroughly. "Your hair is very healthy," Haruki said as she worked in a sweet-smelling shampoo and rubbed at Charity's scalp.

"Really?" Charity wondered if Haruki was being polite. To prevent her hair from resembling a bush, she had used hot irons, straighteners, gels, mousse and an assortment of other products. "My hair is a little unruly."

"Do not worry, Charity-san," Haruki said. "I have worked with hair much like yours before. I spent five years in France and have seen it all."

As Haruki treated Charity's hair, another salon employee started on her feet, using a sugar scrub to smooth out the skin, then trimmed, buffed and polished her curved claws.

A few chairs away, Della protested the treatment. While she didn't seem to care about what they did with her hair, she protested them touching her remaining foot. The female duck cursed them until they practically held her down to work on her webbed toes. It was even worse when they got to the manicure.

As her claws and fingernails were being painted with pink nail polish, Haruki asked, "How would you like your hair done?"

"I don't know," Charity said. "I've only ever worn it down or in a ponytail."

Haruki smiled. "Well, I can do almost any style you would like. We have enough time."

"I don't know hair styles very well," Charity admitted. With curly hair, you couldn't do much unless you wanted to spend over an hour straightening it. "Is it possible that you could make me look…not like me?" she asked.

"Not like you?" Haruki repeated with a questioning look.

"Everyone stares at me because of the YouTube videos," Charity explained. "I want them to stop staring."

Haruki's eyes lit up. "Ah, okay. Okay. I see what you mean. Leave it to me."

Whatever products they had put in her hair, Charity wanted them. Haruki straightened her hair in less than thirty minutes without a sign of a wave. It was amazing to see just how long it was when stretched out, going past her waist. Then Haruki showed the lovebird how they temporarily color hair with a chalky substance.

At first, Charity was skeptical, but once it was rubbed into a strand, she was amazed by how brilliant the color was. Carefully, Haruki treated Charity's hair so that not a single hint of blue could be seen. Instead, her hair was white and purple.

As Haruki worked on coloring and styling Charity's hair, the other attendant rubbed oils into Charity's feathers then added purple and black chalk to cover up the blue, lightening the effect as her feathers turned white close to her shoulders. The end result was amazing, giving her an exotic look.

The last step was her neck and face, treating her feathers first with oils, but being more careful. Unlike her arms, the feathers on her face were smaller and fluffier. If they messed with them too much, she would get a fluffy chick effect. Then they powdered on some make-up using shades of purple. They took a lot of care outlining her eyes and layering her eyelashes with mascara. They took a light pink gloss and outlined her beak, something Charity had never done before. After a few more touches, the showed Charity the final results.

Just as she asked, she didn't look like herself, but it was still her.

"Nobody is going to stare at me now," Charity said with a smile.

"Oh, they're going to stare," someone said. "But it won't be because they recognize you."

There was a lot of laughter.

Haruki had done an amazing job on her hair. After coloring it, she had piled half of it onto Charity's head in intricate designs, weaving flowers and adding gems while leaving the other half cascading down Charity's back. She had cut some of the hair with permission so that it hung to the hips.

"Come on. Now is the fun part," Haruki said with a wink. "Wardrobe."

Charity looked to Della to see what they had done for the duck, but she had been so preoccupied by her own make-over that she hadn't realized Della's protests had ended.

"She is getting dressed," someone told Charity. "That is if they can get her in a dress."

Charity chuckled as she was led to the back where several racks filled with clothing waited to be perused. The male fox was waiting for them. He looked at Charity up and down before nodding in approval and fingering through some dresses.

One rack featured some kimonos with beautiful flower patterns. Charity fingered these, always wondering what it would be like to wear one. She imagined it would be comfortable. Each kimono was more beautiful than the last.

"No, not a kimono," the fox said, pushing them away from Charity.

"I was just looking," Charity said, feeling like a chided child.

"Not with your figure," the fox said, ignoring Charity's words. "It would be a waste." He reached into one rack and pulled out a hot pink dress that was just as revealing as the one Aphrodite had put her in.

"No!" Charity said, putting her foot down.

"No?" the fox repeated, looking aghast at having someone disagree with him.

"Absolutely not," Charity said with a nod.

"What is wrong with it?" the fox demanded.

"There's not enough fabric," Charity said.

The fox's eyes widened before he nodded. "Ah, I guessed wrong. You aren't the sexy-type. You're more of an innocent. Yes, I can work with that," he said, putting the dress back. "Definitely not Lolita, though. Something sweet and fresh." After digging around, he came back with a simple, flowing pink dress that had light, fluttery sleeves and a bottom hem that might come to her knees.

She could work with that.

In a dressing room, Charity put on the dress and twirled in front of the mirror, glad she had insisted on not wearing the hot pink number. This was more her style. She even fished out her phone from the robe pocket and took a few selfies.

Coming out of the dressing room, she was surrounded by several attendants including Haruki. They fussed over her hair and dress, making sure everything was right. They thrust jewelry against her body to see if things looked right, deciding on a silver necklace set with pink stones, several silver bracelets to jangle at her wrists and a few silver rings. One attendant pushed the hair that hung down her back away to apply colorful powder to her back and tail feathers.

"Gladstone is waiting. The party is about to begin," Haruki said as she fussed over Charity. She handed Charity a silver purse to finish the picture. "For your phone."

Charity gladly tucked the device away and hung the strap from her shoulder. It was better than tucking it down her cleavage. "Thank you," she told everyone, giving Haruki's hand a squeeze.

Going back up to the front, Charity laid eyes on the female duck, not quite believing that this was the same Della.

"You look amazing, Della," Charity said.

Della was dressed in a blue kimono with a cherry tree painted on it. Her hair had been rolled into a bun with several flowers pinned and dangling from it. Her feathers were a brilliant white that shone with a rainbow quality to them. Whoever had done her makeup had gone for a more natural look, which made her look ten years younger.

Della frowned. "I feel violated," she muttered, folding her arms.

Charity snorted.

"You look magnificent, cousin."

Charity jumped, not realizing that Gladstone was there. He must have had his own make-over because he wore a green tuxedo, his feathers lustruous.

"I'll get you for this, Gladstone."

"Come on. Was it really that bad?" Gladstone cajoled. "I know you're not the most feminine duck, but wasn't it nice to be fussed over and pampered."

"Well, some of it wasn't so bad," Della admitted. "They did a really good job of painting my leg." She lifted her prosthesis and showed how it was the same color as her leg. Whoever had painted it had also added subtle shading and highlights to make it look realistic.

"Well, then, shall we go ladies," Gladstone said, offering his elbows to the girls. "It's getting late."

Looking out the window, Charity was surprised that it was dark. How long had it taken for them to get the make-over?

A limo idled just outside the salon, and Gladstone opened the door to let the girls in. Inside the limo, Della played around with all the fancy gadgets and tested the buttons.

"Please don't do that, Della," Gladstone said, sliding in.

"Oh, come on. Uncle Scrooge's limo is, like, twenty years old. When's the next time I'm going to be this nice of a limo?" Della said, opening the minibar. She found a bottle of water and opened it up.

Gladstone rolled his eyes but let her be. Instead he turned to the other female. "You looked as if you enjoyed yourself. And I bet Haruki had a lot of fun. She likes dressing up pretty girls."

The corners of Charity's mouth went up, but it couldn't be called a smile. Coming from Gladstone, it didn't sound like a compliment.

"Oh, let me guess. You're the type who doesn't like to be complimented because you don't realize how pretty you are," Gladstone said, analyzing the lovebird. "Or is it you're just pretending modesty?"

"No, I know I'm pretty," Charity said. "I just don't like it when you say it."

Gladstone was intrigued by Charity's boldness. "You would prefer if one of your beaus was here complimenting you?" He smiled as she blushed.

"Any compliment I'm given as I look now should be directed to Haruki and the others. They should be getting the praise. I had nothing to do with this." Charity gestured to her face. "And it's not like being pretty is an accomplishment. I just had the luck of inheriting the right genes. If I take the time on my appearance, I count any compliments I get toward my efforts, not my beauty."

"And what if they compliment you without makeup?" Gladstone said. "I've seen you at your worst—I assume—and you're still not bad-looking."

"Then I pass on the compliment to my mother and my grandparents and all my ancestors. But I'm not so superficial as to think that appearance is important," Charity said.

Gladstone smiled, feeling as if he had her trapped with her words. "But when you saw Della back at the salon, the first thing you said to her was about her appearance."

Charity stiffened, his words attacking her convictions.

"Leave her alone, Gladstone," Della said, pushing her cousin away and moving so that she was closer to the lovebird. "We all can't be as jaded as you."

"What? I'm just making conversation," Gladstone said, sliding away from the girls. "I complimented her and didn't get so much as a thank you or an actual smile."

"And it's no wonder," Della said. "It's not like you're doing it out of kindness. You just want us to be pretty to get you into a party."

Charity's head lifted up. "What?"

"I heard all about it from your fox buddy," Della said. "Apparently, there's an exclusive party every night, and you can only get in if you're on a list, or famous, or you bring in two girls."

Gladstone released a sigh and shrugged. "You got me, Della. Yep, that's what this has been all about. And even with my luck, getting into the party is really hard. I've only been able to get in twice times."

"Unbelievable," Della said, as if she had been hoping for a misunderstanding. "But I guess I'm not surprised."

"That was the secret?" Charity asked. Then she laughed, holding her stomach tightly. "Oh, gosh. I was so worried that he was going to arrange us to be married or sell us to an exotic dance club or something."

Della laughed too.

Gladstone didn't find it funny. "I told you it wasn't anything illegal."

"I wish I would have known," Charity said. "I could have been excited about going to a posh party instead of dreading what was coming next."

"You're not angry?" Gladstone asked.

"Yeah, I am. I'm angry that you kept it a secret, and I'm angry that we're only going because you're using my good looks," Charity said with a frown. "Which means everyone is going to shallow. But it's still a party."

"Well, when she puts it that way," Della said. "I guess I can't be mad at you either, cuz. But tell me, why is this party so special? What's so great about it?"

Gladstone leaned back, putting his arms behind his head. "Because the bartender makes the Best Damn Martinis."

(Author's notes: Dear readers, you may have noticed that my chapters are getting shorter. After writing a 25 page chapter over a month ago, I knew I could not keep working at that pace, especially with other fanfics and a novel at the same time. My health is my greatest concern right now, so my chapters may be shorter (between 8 and 12 pages) each week. I need to keep it this way because I am 17 weeks pregnant.

This is my third pregnancy, and I'm doing fine. I just get tired, and I have two sons to take care of at the same time. I can and will keep writing during my pregnancy, and if things go well, I'll be able to finish Twisted Strings of Fate before I deliver my baby and start the sequel after a maternity leave hiatus.

For any questions about my pregnancy you may have, I don't know the baby's gender yet. I will in a few weeks. I'm healthy. The baby's healthy. I'm due in April.

Thank you everyone for your support and your reviews. This has been quite the adventure for me.)