Chapter 73.
With every victory, there came a celebration.
"Well done, lads!" Penelope gushed, striding into the stables in a cloud of perfume, "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 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."
"Grandma checked us all into a nearby hotel for the night. 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 apparent 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 or so."
John opened his mouth to voice his reluctance, but was beaten by a socially-deprived Scott.
"Count us in!" he beamed, ignoring Alan's dramatic groan, "And count Virgil in too. He should have sobered up by then."
The smile on Penelope's face was positively radiant, "Fantastic! I'm sure your grandmother wouldn't appreciate being left out, so I'll add her to the list as well. Have you all got formal attire, or is a last-minute shopping spree needed?"
Scott shook his head and offered Delta an apple, "I can zip home and pick up what we need. One of the perks of flying the fast 'Bird."
"Sounds good," Penelope replied, "There's one more thing that I should probably mention ahead of time, just so you can adequately prepare yourselves."
John's face paled slightly, "What do you mean, adequately prepare ourselves?"
Penelope donned her chilled-out heiress face, but John wasn't stupid. The way she evasively cast her eyes down to examine her nails betrayed her discomfort.
"Guests have the option of bringing a plus one if they so desire," Penelope 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."
Dread began to set in as the boys hastily drew up mental lists of all the women they knew.
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 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.
Four minds did the math: two out of ten.
Four minds calculated the most likely outcome: screwed.
-x-
One hour later, a shit paddle for the shit kayak that was bobbing down shit creek with four shit-scared Tracys on board had yet to be found.
"Nobody panic," Scott dramatically instructed, "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, 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, Virgil, and John to decline your invites so that Gordon and I can go by ourselves."
Scott's eyes nearly ejected themselves from his skull, "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 that Gordon likes Penny. Why don't you forgo getting us Christmas and birthday presents for the next three years and let us attend in your places instead? The odds of Kayo saying yes to me will be much higher without you on the scene."
Scott opened his mouth to argue, however was cut off by the arrival of their grandmother.
"Boys!" she 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 brows arched in confusion, "You said you've 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!"
Three pairs of eyes bulged for three very different reasons:
Alan, because his grandmother had managed to nab a date before him.
Gordon, because he'd have to share a room, and potentially a bed, with John once again.
Scott, because his grandmother apparently had a spending problem. Who paid desk rate for a penthouse suite in an upmarket hotel on a weekend? Madness!
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. How exactly? He'd known because Ridley O'Bannon had asked him to be her plus one shortly after the polo match had ended.
Apparently, she and Kayo were comfortable confiding in each other.
John 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, waving a hand experimentally in front of his face, "Huh. I think he's in power saving mode."
"O'Bannon's asked me to be her date," John blurted, hoping half-heartedly that sharing his predicament would somehow relieve 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 opened the door to the first bedroom, "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 move into Gran Roca with her, providing she doesn't mind the heat, of course," Sally ploughed on, a snicker breaking loose when John's face froze in terrified anticipation of what he 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 laugh and a snort as John bulldozed towards the nearest door and promptly disappeared through it.
"Uh, bro?" Alan called hesitantly, "That's a closet."
"I know," came the muffled reply, "I have stuff to do in here."
"Such as?"
"Recording fake distress calls so I don't have to accept O'Bannon's invite," John snapped, his voice devoid of guilt, "Grandma, give me your best hysterical scream."
"Oh, sweetheart!" Sally cooed, hunkering down next to the keyhole, "It's nice to be wanted!"
A sharp 'thwack' pinged around the room as Scott's palm reintroduced itself to his face.
"Yeah, but not by the law."