Chapter 52.
Unsurprisingly, Virgil's dinner went down without a hitch.
A couple of burps from Gordon and a cough from Alan when he crammed a burger bun down too quickly, but zero hitches.
It was a well-known fact that Virgil was the most cultured of the Tracy clan. Aside from his skill as a pianist and painter, he also harboured a secret talent for cooking. His barbequed watermelon slices had gone down an absolute treat.
"Excellent nosh, bro!" Alan mumbled around his fifth hotdog, "Got any more ketchup knocking around?"
Scott frowned in disapproval at the three discarded bottles Alan had already ploughed his way through, "I think you've had quite enough for one day. Go and eat an apple instead."
"You're not my dad," Alan argued, breadcrumbs spraying out of his mouth, "I'm under no legal obligation to do as you say."
"Hold your tongue," John interjected, a watermelon kebab poised in his hand, "He's been listed as your guardian ever since dad's accident. Why do you think Grandma keeps trying to hook him up with the beauty therapist who she visits for her lip waxes?"
Alan's face contorted in horror at the images that were forcing their way into his head, "Ew! Grandma gets her lip waxed?"
John smiled and folded his hands behind his head, "Since the summer of fifty four, when a cousin mistook her for Grandpa at a family reunion."
"And why, dare I ask, is she so desperate for Scott to start a relationship with this woman of whom you speak?" Alan ventured, suddenly feeling protective over his brother's affections.
"So he won't have to attend another parent's evening as a 'single father'," John replied, making air quotes around the words 'single' and 'father', "In fact, did you hear about how one of the teachers at the last one thought he and Grandma were married? Apparently, old Scotty Dog gives off the vibe of a guy with a thing for older women."
Alan was about to showcase his disgust in all its spectacular glory, however was cut off by Kayo sticking her nose in the air and sniffing loudly, "Is something burning?"
Virgil, who'd been busy enjoying a civilised conversation with Penelope, glanced up with eyes the size of saucers, "Shit! My parsnip puffs!"
It was with a blast of air and a blur of tartan that Virgil bombed into the kitchen, leaping over sun loungers like a champion show jumper.
Gordon made a face, "I swear he's tougher than he acts."
A quiet murmur of agreement rippled around the patio. Everyone knew that the man standing in front of the oven fussing over his filo pastry creations was probably capable of beating a fully armoured Fuse in an arm-wrestling competition.
Speaking of which…
"Hey, Virg!" Scott yelled, his expression cocky, "Fancy an arm wrestle? Loser has to clean the cockpit of the winner's 'Bird."
Virgil glanced up from gingerly picking up a parsnip puff between his thumb and forefinger, flinching when he realised it was still piping hot, "Oh Scott, I couldn't put you through that kind of trauma. Gordon ate an entire bag of Cheese Puffs on the return flight from our last rescue and got greasy fingerprints everywhere."
Scott snorted, his inner peacock surfacing when he realised that Kayo and Penelope were watching him with intrigue, "Thanks for the warning, but I'm quite happy to take the risk. My floor panels are filthy."
Gordon caught John's eye and mimed a bet of fifty dollars on Virgil.
"Okay, but don't forget, this was your suggestion," Virgil reminded gently, holding out his hand for Scott to grasp. A safe distance away, their little brothers gathered in anticipation of a spectacle that was sure to culminate in the snapping of Scott's humerus.
Scott seized his brother's hand and planted his elbow firmly on the table, "On the count of three. One, two…three!"
SLAM
CRACK
"SHIT!"
Ever practical, Penelope quickly swooped in to assess the damage, her heels crunching on some popcorn kernels that had fallen out of Gordon's gaping mouth. Whether the aforementioned profanity came from the grimacing Scott, panicking John, distraught Virgil, stupefied Gordon, aghast Kayo, or horrified Alan, she couldn't tell. All she could tell, was that Scott's arm was bent at an angle that defied the laws of biology, physics, and possibly mathematics.
"Looks like a possible spiral fracture," Kayo announced, her eyes travelling over the injury, "I'll go and fetch Grandma. Do we need to transport him to the mainland?"
John shook his head and began exploring Scott's arm with his hands, "Most likely not. Grandma's a retired surgeon, so I'm sure she'll be able to splint it."
"I'll take him down to the medical bay," Kayo offered, her eagerness to nanny the man she fancied plainly evident, "Can you lean on me, or do you need the support of two people?"
Scott winced as he rose to his feet, his arm cradled against his chest, "You'll do fine. Gordon, take me off the roster for tonight and tomorrow. There's no way I can pilot with just one arm."
"F.A.B," Gordon replied, shovelling another fistful of popcorn into his mouth before zipping off to action his brother's request.
After watching Kayo gently escort her charge out of the kitchen, John locked his gaze onto Virgil, "One of these days you'll realise just how damn strong you really are."
Virgil let out a shaky breath. He felt terrible whenever he accidentally injured any of his brothers, but particularly so when the brother in question was Scott.
Still, he had been warned.
Virgil sighed and resumed fretting over his parsnip puffs, "And maybe one of these days he'll realise just how thick-headed he is. Now he won't be able to enjoy the surprise I organised for this evening."
There was a sharp intake of breath as Gordon came back from updating the availability rota, "Did I just hear the S-word?"
"Why yes, you most certainly did," Penelope replied, "I believe it was Alan who took the liberty of alerting everyone to Scott's predicament with his rallying cry of 'shit!' just over a minute ago."
Gordon made a face, "You sound like EOS."
"Wait here," Virgil instructed, opting to forgo lecturing Alan on his choice of language, "I'll see if Brains has finished hooking it up."
That earnt him more than a couple of frowns. Virgil was the mechanic of the family. The one with a degree in aerospace engineering. The one who the rest of them went to when a bulb blew in their room.
What kind of unearthly creation could possibly require the construction expertise of Brains over Virgil?
Alan, as usual, was poised with a suggestion.
"Are we getting a Thunderbird Six?"
-x-
Unfortunately, Thunderbird Six it was not.
Fortunately, it was something much, much better.
"A mechanical bull?" Penelope exclaimed, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline, "Dear goodness, Virgil! And you expect me to ride on that thing after eating my own bodyweight in steak?"
Virgil shrugged as he walked around the bull, his eyes scanning for any defects, "You're welcome to watch. Just make sure you're armed with an umbrella. Both Gordon and Alan are vomiters."
Predictably, that comment was not well received.
"Oh yeah, tough guy?" Alan sneered, swaggering up to the bull and gracelessly scrambling into the saddle, "Maximum power, if you please."
John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Virgil, please don't. Grandma will flay us if we send any more broken bones her way."
Regrettably, Virgil seemed quite prepared to endure one of their grandmother's tongue-lashings in exchange for several uninterrupted minutes playing with his new toy.
"C'mon John," Virgil wheedled, his eyes widening in excitement as the bull began to rock back and forth, "Have a quick go. I promise it won't kick you."
John's face paled as Alan became a blond-headed blur.
"It's not so much kicking I'm worried about as bone-shattering impact."
-x-
Kayo had never been a fan of infirmaries.
The white walls, the stench of disinfectant, and the oppressive feeling of being surrounded by the ill, the injured, and the dying.
Or, in her case, the plain stupid.
Sally had assessed Scott's injury and diagnosed a dislocated shoulder instead of the spiral fracture Kayo had originally suggested. The good news was that it could be fixed quickly and easily.
Not painlessly, but quickly and easily.
If Sally's forty years of medical experience had taught her anything, it was that time was money.
"Okay kid, I recommend you grab hold of something," Sally instructed, bracing her hand against Scott's back, "This is going to hurt. Are you sure you don't want to take some painkillers first?"
Scott shook his head and gratefully seized the hand Kayo was offering him, "No thanks, just get it over and done with."
Sally pursed her lips, "Just like your dad. Okay, ready? One…"
CLICK
The shriek of pain that tore out of Scott's throat nearly shattered the reinforced glass of the windows. Kayo gasped in pain as her poor hand was all but crushed.
"What happened to two and three?" Scott roared, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes as he instinctively yanked his arm out of his grandmother's reach.
Sally sighed and fossicked through a drawer for a sling, "I had to catch you off guard, otherwise you would have tensed and made it worse."
Kayo gave a sarcastic grunt and inspected one of her deformed fingers.
"Anyway, you should be as good as new in a couple of weeks," Sally affirmed, "It'll take between two to three months for all the damage to heal, but there's nothing stopping you from resuming normal day-to-day activities in a fortnight or so. Until then, regular ice baths and plenty of rest should be your top priorities."
Scott made a noise of acknowledgement, accepted the sling, and beelined towards the door, eager to escape before his grandmother could find another bone to manipulate.
-x-
Upon returning to the patio, several disturbing features caught Scott's attention.
Number one was the giant mechanical bull sat by the pool like some kind of tasteless effigy.
Number two was the lack of padded flooring surrounding said mechanical bull.
Number three was the way in which Virgil and John were sipping from a pair of beer bottles as if they didn't have a care in the world, seemingly oblivious to the scene unfolding before them.
Number four was said scene, which consisted of Gordon clinging to the bull for dear life and screaming in either panic or elation. Scott had never been able to tell the difference.
Needless to say, his dislocated shoulder was put well and truly to shame by some of the things he was forced to witness after Kayo pushed him into a chair, forced a glass of water into his hand, and forbade him from policing the situation.
Alan lasted all of thirty seconds aboard the bull before losing his grip, sailing clean over Virgil's head, and landing in the pool with a comically loud splash.
Gordon's swimmer thighs served him well and kept him glued in place for a respectable four and a half minutes, after which he began to yell something about feeling sick. Much to everyone's dismay, Virgil turned the power dial the wrong way, causing the bull's bucks to increase in both frequency and vigour. After being ejected by a particularly violent spin, Gordon had bolted off to relieve his stomach of the six burgers he'd consumed mere hours earlier.
John possessed the best balance of all the brothers, courtesy of the twenty thousand plus hours he'd spent in zero gravity. Surprisingly, he performed the best aboard the bucking bronc. By the time the six minute timer went off and the bull stopped, the only noticeable difference to the redhead's appearance was a stray lock of hair that had fallen across his face.
Virgil was shorter than most people realised and had a deceptively lower centre of gravity than his brothers, bar Alan. He was also blessed with what Gordon referred to as a 'sticky butt', meaning that once his rump made contact with a surface, nothing short of dynamite was capable of dislodging him. That, combined with his low centre of gravity, meant that he too was able to see his mechanical rodeo through until the end. Unfortunately, the whoopee cushion that Gordon had hidden underneath the bull's makeshift saddle somewhat dampened the dignity of his victory.
Parker, to nobody's surprise, was reluctant to go near anything mechanical and moving that wasn't FAB 1. After some strategic coaxing from Virgil, he'd vaulted onto the bull, only to squeeze his eyes shut and start frantically gabbling something about heights and a traumatic encounter he'd had in a field of cows as a child.
Penelope had sniffed and muttered something about the boys being 'wimps' before rolling up her sleeves, kicking off her heels, and elegantly swinging onto her new mount. After crisply telling Virgil to select the highest difficulty, she'd proceeded to demurely grip her way through six gruelling minutes of mechanical bucking. As if that wasn't enough, she'd then requested that Virgil reset the timer and allow her another go.
And another.
And another.
While Scott had always admired Penelope's willingness to defy the restrictions of her class, he couldn't help but wonder if, like him, she was a secret adrenalin junkie.
This theory was later confirmed when he spied a season pass for the Chicagoland Skydiving Centre sticking out of her purse.