Three days later found me running frantically around the apartment, asking Mom which shoes looked best with the dress I was wearing, while Original Cindy curled Mom's hair in the bathroom. Earlier, James and I had arranged dinner together, resulting in what we called, "Dinner Date Number Four". After all the other accidents, we assumed it best to start an ordering system and see if any connections could be made. Besides, he had said, he wanted to know how old we would be when we reached one hundred. I wasn't sure how to accept that comment, so I didn't push it any further than necessary.
Brandon had called a few times after our run in back in his apartment, only be greeted by Original Cindy, who claimed that she "didn't swing 'dat way 'cause no girl named Alanza lived at 'er house". I really did love having her around. Really.
Nonetheless, James and I had planned on dinner three days after our "coming together", per se, yet it was I who suggested the presence of parents. I told him that Mom wanted to meet him, and I was looking forward to kicking his father's ass. This caused James to laugh, which ended up in his unspoken agreement.
For the banquet that night, Logan had bought Mom an absolutely gorgeous fuchsia dress sprinkled with black flowers. I don't know how much the dress had cost because, being the gentleman that he was, Logan wouldn't say; I did know that it was at least four figures-the information smuggled from Cindy, of course. Personally, I wouldn't ever spend that much on a dress. But, he was Logan, and she was Mom. No additional comments were needed.
Syl had lent me one of her old dresses that was too big, which ended up fitting me perfectly. It was a long, black, almost ballroom type of dress, with satin topping that hung tastefully on my body. Around the base was a line of Austrian crystals accompanied by miscellaneous sparkles glinting all over the remainder of the dress. Unsure of which shoes to wear, I asked both Mom and Original Cindy; they both agreed on the black over the silver shoes.
Just as I was buckling the tiny strap on the back of my shiny, high-heeled sandals, there was a knock at the door. Mom, who was in the bathroom with Cindy, called out to the living room, "Alanza, will you get that?"
"Yeah," I responded, straightening myself until I got a satisfactory crack out of my spine.
The knocking became more persistent so I yelled back to the person that I was coming. With a groan to myself, I muttered, "Impatient jerk."
Yet, upon opening the door, nothing could have prepared me for the one person who stood there. I nearly fell back and would've collapsed on the floor had I not caught myself on the corner of the couch, thanks only to instinctive reflexives. Shaking my head, which caused the two curls that had been freed from my tight up-do to jingle, I tried to form words that would not come as I wobbled back up to my feet.
"Alanza, are you all right?" Mom asked, apparently not seeing who was at our front-and only-door.
"I'm fine." Then, I straightened myself slowly and met the person's eyes with a blank gaze. After all, I could think of nothing else to say or do. "You actually came back," I said to them, shaking my head in disbelief, while pursing my lips. "I can't believe it…You've returned, Dad."
Dad studied me for a moment, examining the apartment like a spy. He was dressed in his typical façade of leather jacket, cheap shirt, and blue jeans accompanied by army boots. All in all he looked exactly the same as he had the night he left New York-right down to the dried blood on his coat sleeve that hadn't been bothered to be wiped off. Finally, he cleared his throat and responded in a low undertone while refusing to meet my eyes, "I had to."
"Alanza, who is that?" Mom questioned again.
"Dad's back."
I heard the clattering of something in the bathroom, a hairbrush perhaps, followed by a hiss of "holy shit" and Mom came hopping out, struggling to put on one of her shoes. Apparently, she didn't believe me. But, when she, too, came face to face with Dad, her expression fell, making me unable to detect if she was happy, sad or just plain pissed that he had the gall to come back. Cindy stayed, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, watching with bland intensity.
"Well, well, well…" was all that Mom could say.
"Good to see you too, Max," Dad replied sarcastically. Pushing past me so that he could fully enter the apartment, he strode over to the large window above the couch, covering the distance in less than three steps, and looked down at the streets. Arching an aged eyebrow, he glanced back to the dumbfounded Mom and I, eyeing us over. "And should I ask why you two are so dressed up?"
"Hold on," Mom said, approaching him with crossed arms and a rather irritated look on her face. "You've been gone nearly a month without any form of communication or reason for your leaving and suddenly you want to ask us why we're acting the way we are?" She laughed faintly, shaking her head, while brandishing her finger as if at a disobedient child. "Zack, it doesn't work that way."
"Fine then," he shot back angrily in a violent snarl, indicating that he didn't want to take time with such frivolous nonsense, but would do anyway, just so that he could later bargain for his own requests. "Ask away, Max."
"Why'd you leave?"
"Manticore…I told Alanza that."
"So I heard," she responded with an irked look. "Well, then, why'd you come back at all?"
"To take you out of here."
"I don't think so," I protested, stepping forward. Dad looked shocked to see me speaking, and tried to hide his instinctive flinch from me, but I was better than he thought. "I'm not going to say I'm not happy to see you because I am. I really am, Dad. But that doesn't change the fact that you left me alone in New York City without anybody-"
"Krit and Syl were there."
"They were nearly on the verge of suicide from traumatic depression."
"Case was there, too."
"He's not a whole lot older than I am."
"You're eighteen Alanza. When I was eighteen, I-"
"You are my father!" I cried, my voice rising to a harsh pitch. "You are the only one I have! How can you just leave me there and then expect to come back into my life without any hesitation?! How?! You haven't been here for the past month or more, so you're just going to assume that everything's the way it was? Well, it's not. I'm not the same person I was one month ago." I shook my head. "I don't know why you came back. Manticore, probably, right? In that case, I'll tell you this much: Mom and I were invited to dinner with James and his father, which we should be leaving right now, in fact, because we still have to drive slowly on the bike to pick up Logan's Azteck. You can come if you want, Dad. To be realistic, I would love it if you could come. Really, I would. But, I know that's not going to happen. So, now, what did you want to say?"
Dad paused, swallowed, then began, "Manticore's alive. I found a base in Illinois. I want all the remaining X5s here in ten minutes. You too, Max."
Mom, who was now finished dressing walked towards Dad and held her face close to his. "Zack, if you just didn't hear our daughter, I have a dinner to attend tonight. I'll be back in about two hours. Okay? Good. Catch ya later." And with that, she turned and began heading down the stairs, the sound of her clipping heels fading away until I could hear them no more.
Dad turned to me, and meeting sad eyes, he asked, "Well?" He was losing control, and we both knew it. Yet, he was fervently going to grasp for any threads that he could. Personally, I was surprised that he didn't snatch up Mom and I, making us stay. Something had hit him hard, and had changed his personality from the man I remembered to the intruder who stood before me.
"Well, what?"
"You going to dinner or not?"
"You still holding that meeting?"
"Yes," he answered.
"Then, yes, Dad, I am still going to dinner."
Mom and I, after riding her motorcycle to Logan's penthouse, grabbed his car and then headed onto the restaurant. He claimed that by taking his car, it would allow us to stay in fairly good shape without looking like a bunch of hillbillies on the way to their cousin's-or sister's- wedding. Personally, I was starting to see why Mom liked Logan so, and I regretted the harsh words I had thrown at her in our previous fight. Eventually, I would have to apologize to him, too. But there would be time for that later, of course.
In the restaurant's parking lot, I spotted James' little Ford. Grinning, I hopped out, clutching my dress so it didn't become dirty on the pavement.
"See?" I asked Mom, pointing to his car. "That's his."
"Awful small," she commented with a grimace as she locked the doors with Logan's automatic key ring; Mom had never been a person for small, enclosed areas anyhow.
"It works for him," I replied, giving her a blank shrug, and we headed inside to escape the November chill.
Upon entering the silver framed doorways, I began to wonder just how much this meal was going to cost. After all, James and I had agreed to pay for our own food, plus parents', and I had figured at the very most fifty dollars would be needed. Yet, with a quick glance around, I was beginning to think otherwise. At the front of the restaurant, there was a stage set up, where a heavy set black woman lulled the crowd with a rich voice that rivaled Max's rock singers from long ago, while tiny tables were arranged around this main attraction on a sea of crimson carpeting. Each cherry wood table was covered in a white, lacy tablecloth, and the chairs were backed with high black swooping iron frames. A single rose blossom was placed in a glass bowl of water in the direct middle of each sitting arrangement with chubby vanilla candles on either side.
After we had entered and gaped at the ornate interior, Mom squeezed my forearm. "I'm going to head to the bathroom," she whispered, leaning in close enough for me to smell Logan's cologne and her pasty lipstick; I had never liked the scent of lipstick. Too bland for my tastes.
"Do you want me to wait here for you or find James?" I asked.
"You can go sit with James…wherever he is," she replied, arching her neck to look through the plants that topped the separation of eating and waiting areas. "I can't see him, but maybe you can, considering you got the better height."
"Okay," I nodded, smiling. "I'll see what I can do."
Mom grinned back; we were both so happy despite the fact that Dad had shown back up at one of the worst possible times. Well, I suppose if he had appeared during my frantic heat period that definitely would have been worse. Shuddering, I willed myself not to think such perverse thoughts and to find James.
I told the greeter, who prevented me from entering the chic dining area at first, that I was with James Wilson. After a tedious check down a fancy list, the man let me pass. If he hadn't, I would've gone in anyway.
With the plants out of my vision, I was able to see more clearly and spot James on the other side of the restaurant. He had an elbow resting on a partition, cupping his chin in a palm so that he stared away from me. Wearing a black pair of pants with a loose button-down silver satin shirt, I realized that he and I must have had some kind of telepathic connection going on, considering that we had worn such starkly similar clothing. His father, though, was nowhere to be seen.
Politely squeezing my way through the sea of cramped tables, I meandered over to James and greeted him with a peck on the cheek. He looked surprised to see me, but I tried not to take it personally due to the fact that he was probably over-stressed with his father being there.
"How are you doing?" I asked, curling my arm around his waist.
"Considering the circumstances, not too bad."
"Where's your dad?"
"Bathroom." He paused, then noticed I was alone. "Where's your mom?"
"Bathroom," I laughed.
Sighing together, he shook his head in disgust, "Parents."
A couple minutes later, an older man came from what must have been the men's room. He was glancing around nervously, yet smiled when he saw me.
"This must be Alanza," he replied in a husky voice that came from old age and probably one too many cigars back in the day. He was a little bit shorter than I was, but built stocky with silver hair that looked like he was losing most of it. He wore a faded brown leather jacket that eerily mirrored Dad's black one, along with black slacks, a dull mossy green sweater, and black wingtip shoes.
I tried to force an artificial smile. All in all, I could slightly picture him being the sleaze that both Case and James claimed him to be. Still, it didn't seem that possible. There was something that disturbed me about this man, but I knew that condoms in the bathroom didn't fit the profile of my troubles with him.
"Dad," James said through gritted teeth, glancing away testily.
"Oh, sorry son, please, you do the introductions." Immediately, I sensed the challenge between the older and younger man. James' father apparently thought that he could run his own show, while James wanted to be polite and introduce us himself.
"Fine." James extended his hand towards me in a swooping gesture. "Dad, this is Alanza, my girlfriend." I found it odd that he had left off my last name, but I didn't question it. "Alanza, this is my father-"
Just as he was about to speak, Mom came running from the other side of the restaurant, screaming my name. "Alanza! Get away from him! Now, Alanza!"
"What?" I asked, but barely had time to think before she clutched my arm protectively. In a matter of seconds she had gone from one end of the room to the other.
James' father stiffened, and his voice came out in a whisper as he met my mother's eyes. "Max…"
With a fierce glare towards the older man, Mom hissed to me, digging her nails sharply into my upper arm, "We have to leave, now." The restaurant was a mess; the lady had stopped singing and people were yelling at Mom for interrupting their meal. A couple waiters were making their way towards her, trying to restrain the psycho lady.
"But I-"
"Don't argue!" she snapped in a fierce tone that I had never heard her use. She literally pulled me in a blind run as we flew over the tables out to the vehicle. I barely had time to close my door before she gunned the engine and sped off. Driving like a maniac, she swerved past other cars out of the road, while pushing the speed limit by at least thirty miles. Logan's old Azteck screamed with pain as Mom skidded rapidly around a corner, flipping hand over hand on the steering wheel.
"What the hell was that all about?" I asked, brushing my tangled hair out of my eyes.
"Alanza, what is the name of James' father?"
I shrugged. "I don't know, why?"
"What's James' last name?"
"He goes by his step-dad's: Wilson."
"You don't know James' biological name, then?"
"No…Mom, what are you trying to get at?"
Mom sighed heavily and checked her side mirror before glancing over at me. Her face was blank, and I knew that whatever answer she would tell me would not be something that I could look forward to. My stomach heaved, anticipating her response, and I nearly lost it all as she said, "Alanza, James' father, that man we met tonight, is no one else besides Donald Lydecker."
