Chapter 10
In Which Phil Attempts to Redeem Himself
Gerald pulled finally into the crowded parking lot and amazingly found a space only about two blocks away from the restaurant. He checked his newly-fixed watch. Huh, I made pretty good time for DC from New York. Helga found him before he got out of the car.
"Nice wheels, Geraldo." She scanned the black, shiny new Mustang with appreciation.
"Thanks. They're a loaner from an old friend. Where's your car?" He looked around for something pink.
"In storage with the rest of the stuff from my apartment. Moria took care of it."
"So how'd you get here?"
"Jet, bus, truck drivers, the usual. I'm hoping you'll give me a ride to wherever we're going next though."
"Sure, no problem."
They walked towards the restaurant (The Italian in All of Us) in silence. Gerald kept glancing at Helga, who was still wearing her jeans and pink t-shirt she had put on that morning. She'd left her hair down and he was surprised to see that it brushed past her waist, much longer than he would have thought.
"Take a picture, Geraldo, it'll last longer."
Gerald blinked. "Sorry, I've just never seen you in jeans before."
Helga looked at Gerald in his suit Mr. Smith had given him. "This place doesn't have a dress code, does it?"
"Naw, I'm probably over-dressed actually." He shifted a bit and straightened his tie.
Helga shrugged. "You look good in suits."
"I know." Helga gave him a look. "Erm, I mean, thank you?"
"Better."
Gerald had made reservations earlier, and they were seated almost as soon as they got inside. Helga scanned the beverages.
"Figures, the only tea they have is iced. Guess I'll be drinking water tonight."
"They have coffee."
"No thanks."
Helga closed her menu and got up. "Order for me will you? I just want a lasagna and water."
"Where are you going?"
"Ladies' room. Be back in a sec." She turned around and headed towards the back of the restaurant.
The waiter appeared soon after. Gerald ordered for Helga and got an alfredo for himself.
"And to drink, sir?"
"Coffee and…actually, make that two coffees. The lady likes hers black. And really really strong."
The waiter nodded and left, just as Gerald saw Helga heading back towards him. He smiled at her.
***********
It was a tiny office room, but very neat and clean, which was unusual considering the part of town it was located in. A large man sat in a rolling chair with a pad of paper and a pen in his hands, scribbling notes. The pad had a design of kittens playing with yarn on it. The real kittens in the room were busy shredding the curtains.
Other than the kittens, the man and the chair, the only other object in the room was a large table, almost too big to fit in the room. It was covered with wires, cassette tapes, 8-tracks, mini-disks, and various equipment of all kinds. Some of the equipment was hooked together in a haphazard fashion to a cassette recorder. This had switched on by itself a moment ago, and was the reason the man was now taking notes. He turned up a speaker and listened.
"…can't believe you wouldn't let me change out of these jeans! I'd be a lot more comfortable in a pants suit. I feel under-dressed and Tall Hair Boy can't keep his eyes off me, like I'm a pod person or something."
"Chanting Hare Krishna and spinning nickels?"
"Are you making fun of me?"
"Never. It's just that I think it's entirely possible that is not the reason he is staring at you, Helga."
Helga ignored this comment. "I mean, he's here in a suit, for crying out loud!"
"Your suit isn't dry yet. How is Gerald? Ok?"
"Yeah yeah, he looks great, typical. Goes through a near-death experience and comes out in a suit, driving a Mustang. Meanwhile I'm a mess, and I didn't even fall off a ship."
"You're not saying this in front of him, are you?"
"Of course not. I told him I was going to the restroom. I'd better get back though. Oh, how's the project going?"
The man stopped writing and listened intently.
"Not so good. I don't know what you think this stuff is, Helga, but right now I can't find anything dangerous enough to put a warning label on if I were to sell it at the grocer. It's like a health drink, made up of mostly plant-like substances that I can't really identify. I could feed it to my rat and he'd probably smack his lips and ask for more."
"Well keep looking. Bad guys don't smuggle in health drinks."
"Looking." Phoebe replied without thinking, then laughed.
"You haven't done that in a while."
"No, I haven't. I've missed you Helga."
"I missed you too Pheebs. I gotta get back to dinner."
"Right. Talk to you later."
"Bye Phoebe."
There was a click, and the machine stopped recording. The man made a note for himself. Find Phoebe.
Helga made her way back to the table. The waiter was just leaving, and Gerald turned and smiled at her. He had a nice smile, but it made Helga feel a bit funny to see it. She raised an eyebrow at him. You look too angelic. What have you been plotting?
**************
"…and so, Phoebe ended up with it. But I just talked to her, and she said the stuff is as dangerous as one of Mr. Simmon's granola bars. She can't find anything wrong with it."
Gerald frowned and sat back at the table, thinking. The dining room was pretty much deserted by now, in fact Gerald and Helga were the last lingering customers there. Their meals had been cleared away (Helga's coffee went untouched, although she had threatened to pour it on him) and their waiter had pointedly placed their check on the table half-an-hour ago.
"So what do you think, then?" he asked her.
"No idea. Maybe it was a decoy, who knows. I told Pheebs not to stop testing it though. She may yet find something."
Gerald nodded. Hot Air…what does that mean, exactly? Is it a clue to what this stuff does? He thought about it for a minute but gave up quickly. Oh well, if anyone can find out, Phoebe can.
Helga was watching the last few employees hanging around waiting for them to leave. "I think we should probably get going."
"Yeah, you're right. I'll get the check."
Helga bristled. "This isn't a date, Geraldo. I can pay for my own meal."
Gerald frowned at her. "I wasn't implying that it was, Helga. It's just that the staff already shut down their computers and this check isn't split, so I thought I'd make it easier on them."
"Fine, then I'll pay. I get paid more than you do anyway."
"I doubt that."
"How much do you make?"
"That's not the point," Gerald was getting frustrated, "Look, no girl is going to pay for my dinner!"
He realized as soon as he said it that it was a mistake. Helga's eyes flashed, and for a second he imagined that they were back in fourth grade and he was about to meet up with Old Betsy. Then she took a deep breath, her face changed to a stony expression, and she pushed the check towards him.
"Fine. I'll be outside." She got up and left without looking back at him.
Nice going Geraldo, Gerald thought to himself as he paid a tired-looking cashier, Could I have picked a stupider thing to – wait, Geraldo?? Oh great, now she's got me saying it!
Helga was standing with her arms crossed outside, obviously trying to cool off. Gerald approached her cautiously and stood next to her without speaking. She didn't look at him. After a few minutes, Gerald started to get antsy.
"Helga—"
"You folks waiting for your car?"
Gerald looked around. A red-headed high-school student was in front of him. He was wearing the red shirt and black shorts of a valet.
"When did this place start offering valet service?"
"About 8 o'clock," the valet quipped, grinning. "Actually they just started the idea last week. I'm about to go home, but I can get your car for you if you like."
"Um," Gerald glanced at Helga, but she didn't look like she was moving towards the parking lot anytime soon. He gave in. "Ok. It's the black—"
"Mustang. I know, it's the only one in the lot that doesn't belong to an employee." He took the keys Gerald gave him and headed off, calling over his shoulder, "Back in just a second folks!"
When he was out of earshot, Gerald tried again. "Helga, I'm sorry." She didn't say anything, but she didn't hit him either so he decided to continue. "I don't know why I said that. It was stupid. I've had girls pay for my dinner before, no big deal. I mean, I don't even think of you as a girl." Oh yeah, that'll help. "I mean I do think of you as a girl, not that I'm thinking about you at all, but when you do happen to cross my mind I know you're a girl." Helga turned her head and gave him a very odd look. "Um, but that's not the point, is it? The point is…" he trailed off. "Just…I'm sorry."
At first he thought she was shaking in anger. Then he thought maybe she was crying. It wasn't until she let out a giggle that he realized she was laughing. Hard. He frowned.
"What's so funny?"
Helga paused for breath and managed to choke out an answer. "You, that's what. Mr. I-never-lose-my-cool Johansson stumbling over his words?" She kept laughing.
Gerald folded his arms and waited for her to finish. When she had gotten control of herself, he stuck out his hand.
"Friends?"
She hesitated, then shook his hand. "Friends it is, Tall Hair Boy."
Gerald let go of her hand and turned his eyes towards the lot. The Mustang was rolling towards them, and as he watched the valet opened a window and waved at them. Gerald smiled slightly. Man's best friend is his car. The valet pulled up in front of them, opened the driver side door and started to get out of the car.
Gerald was never sure later how he heard the tiny click as the valet got up from his seat, or how he knew immediately what it was. But suddenly he was throwing himself at Helga, hitting the cement ground and rolling to the side, away from the fireball erupting out of the Mustang's engine.
Everything seemed in slow motion. He saw the valet's eyes growing wide for a split second before the impact hit him. Flames burst like a twisted ballet out of every available exit in the car. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, a strange sound mixed with Helga's screams. Then they hit the ground with a disturbing CRACK, they were rolling off the cement onto the dirt, they were out of range from the flames. They were safe.
Gerald lay in the dirt, half on top of Helga, trying to regain control of his breathing. The Mustang was like a bonfire of burning metal just a few feet away from them. He couldn't see the valet. He wasn't sure he wanted to.
"Gerald?" came a small voice beside him.
"Yeah?" he answered, and his voice seemed even smaller to him.
"Are we alive?"
"I'm not sure yet."
He checked to see if he could move, and, finding that he could, got up and then helped Helga to get up also. They stood there for a moment, watching the flames. Then it hit Helga.
"Gerald," she grabbed his shoulder and he tore his eyes away to look at her.
"Gerald, they know where we are."
Gerald's heart, which he had been trying to get to stop pounding, now stopped completely. He took one last glance at the car, grabbed Helga's hand and said just one word.
"Run."
A/N This is shorter, yes, but it's here! I'll try to get chapter 11 out soon, don't want to leave ya'll hanging *too* long… :) ~PJ
Maxine: Actually, I read that fic. I liked it, I thought you did pretty well with their characters. The only thing I didn't like was that I thought Arnold forgave her awful fast…but then again he is a pretty special guy. :)
DropsofJupiter: Yay! Someone understood the angel! I wasn't sure if that was obvious or not this time around…although that painting will show up again later.
miss amyami: Hmm…yes…have you been getting into my Kudos bar stash?
pokey: Understood, lol. Computers can be a pain sometimes. Thanks for taking the time to review though, I appreciate all of them, even one or two word ones. :)
TaDah: Whoo hoo! Not much of a wait for once! Yay!
Jacquleine Schaeffer: Another chapter "cranked" out. And just as you reviewed, too. I'm proud of myself. :) This one will probably prompt more questions than answer them though, sorry…