Richie couldn't sleep at all that night, he was so angry. How could Greg
do that to him? He wasn't a little kid anymore. He didn't need anyone to
help him brush up on his manners. He didn't need anyone looming over his
shoulder making sure he did everything perfectly. And he most definitely
did not need anyone excusing them from the table to lecture him in the
bathroom. With a sudden start, he realized he had a game the next day. or
technically since it was two in the morning a game later that day and he
still had a ton of homework to do. He closed his eyes and tried his best
to sleep but nothing happened; he was too tense. Finally he sat up and
scooted to the center of his bed. He folded his legs, straightened his
back and shoulders, and rested his wrists palm upward on his knees. If he
couldn't sleep, he could at least relax. He closed his eyes and pushed
everything from his mind. The next thing he knew, it was almost seven.
Feeling somewhat rested, he went downstairs to the kitchen. Greg wasn't there yet. He rummaged in the pantry and emerged with Cocoa Puffs and Pop Tarts. Content with his selection and feeling he was in dire need of sugar and caffeine, Richie put the food on the table before getting a bowl, coffee mug, and milk. He poured himself a cup of coffee from the fresh pot that had been brewed with the help of a timer and sat down to his meal.
"Now there's a healthy choice," a voice scoffed from behind him.
"Its fine," Richie tried to shrug off the condescending tone.
"You have a game tonight; maybe you should try bacon and eggs."
"I like cereal and Pop Tarts."
"It's just going to slow you down. You need protein to keep your energy up."
"I'll eat a steak for lunch and dinner."
"Then it will just weigh you down."
"I'm fine. I can handle it," Richie could feel his nerves being rubbed raw.
"I just wish you would eat healthier, that's all."
"Then stop buying me junk food!" Richie exploded not being able to take it any longer.
"Excuse me?" Greg asked.
"You heard me! If you don't want me to eat this stuff in front of you, stop buying it!"
"I don't appreciate your tone."
Richie rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that," he groaned. "Because I sure as hell didn't appreciate being made an ass of in front of my girlfriend and her parents!"
"Watch your language, young man."
"If you think that's bad, you should hear the other words I know," Richie said coldly staring Greg directly in the eye. "I have never been so embarrassed before in my entire life!" he continued. "A few stories, fine. But promising me one lecture after another and correcting everything I do like I'm a little kid is not cool! You made me feel like a total idiot last night! And to top it all off you had to point out that that wasn't my credit card! Nobody had to know. I'm sending Mac a check tonight and I had already asked him if I could. It was easier to take that than a hundred bucks in cash."
"You left a hundred dollars?"
"I figured she deserved a good tip after the way we were acting," Richie told him. "And it's none of your business how well I do or don't tip. The point is you went out of your way to embarrass me last night!"
"No, I didn't," Greg insisted.
"Could'a fooled me."
"Richard Ryan." Greg started.
"What?" Richie demanded.
"Don't you ever speak to me like this again, do you understand me?"
Richie contemplated his answers. "Whatever," he rolled his eyes and picked up his dishes, as only a waiter could, and carried them to the sink dumping the nearly full bowl of cereal down the drain followed by a full cup of coffee and then he dumped his Pop Tarts in the trash.
"What did you say?"
"I said," Richie started angrily spinning around to face his father who stood to his full imposing height of six foot two, arms crossed and glaring. Suddenly Richie didn't feel so brave.
"Well?"
"I said, yes, sir," Richie mumbled turning back to his dishes mentally kicking himself. He had been so close to actually getting through an entire argument without backing down. It was like it was scientifically impossible for him to stand up to his father. Not only was Greg an imposing authority figure, he was a lot bigger and stronger and Miller had told Richie repeatedly how good of a swordsman he was; for an immortal that was a very intimidating combination.
When Richie finished in the kitchen he went back to his room and got dressed. As he gathered up his books and other belongings from the floor he felt his anger rising again. Not only at Greg for treating him like a kid, but at himself for letting Greg treat him like a kid. By the time he was ready to sit down to his work, he knew there was no way he was going to be able to concentrate. He took his books off his desk and put them in his bag. Shouldering his bag, Richie went down stairs and headed to the front door.
"Where are you going?" Greg half asked, half demanded from his seat on the couch where he was reading the paper.
"Out," Richie answered not stopping.
"I thought you had homework?"
"I do."
"Then why do you think you have time to go out?"
Richie stopped half way across the room. "Because I. I." Once again Richie's courage ran for cover. "I need my computer," he lied.
"You can use mine," Greg offered.
"I uh, need. some files off it. Yeah, that's it," he lied less than convincingly. "So if I wanna get it done, I gotta go." He didn't wait for an answer before turning again and leaving. "Man! I gotta get a backbone!" he yelled at himself as he slammed his fist into his steering wheel.
. . . . . .
"What's with you, man?" John asked as Richie came storming into the house. "Mac buy you a Lamborghini?"
"No," Richie barked going straight to his room. He fell face first onto the king-sized bed and lay motionless trying to get his emotions under control. He heard someone close his door and the next thing he knew someone was shaking him awake.
"Ryan, dude, game time," Feingold told him. "You been out all day; enough's enough already."
"I'm up," Richie mumbled into the mattress. He took a couple seconds to fully wake up before getting up and going to the gym.
They ran some pre-game warm-ups then went into the locker room to dress out for the game. Richie focused all his pent up anger on playing. For four quarters, nobody could touch him; he came out of nowhere and stole the ball, sprinted down the court with it, and scored before anyone knew what happened. He still remembered to call plays and pass the ball but if you couldn't keep up with him he wasn't going to wait for you catch up. The Cougars won 127 to 55. NYU didn't stand a chance.
The entire O'Neal family was waiting for him after the game.
"You were great!" Heather squealed throwing her arms around his neck.
"Wrichie!" Brandon yelled throwing his arms around his thigh.
"Hey, big guy," Richie smiled picking the boy up. "How are you doing?"
"I'm doing very well," Brandon answered in a carefully rehearsed tone. Melinda had been teaching him manners. "How are you?"
"I'm doin' great," Richie answered before turning his attention to Courtney and three of her giggling friends. All four were decked out in Somo gear. "Hey Court, who're your friends?"
"Um. this is Jennie, Amanda, and Rachel," she introduced them.
"Nice to meet you guys," Richie said flashing them his most killer smile. The three giggled and tried to hide behind each other.
"You haven't eaten yet, have you?" Melinda asked.
"Not yet."
"Good, why don't you join us? We were going to take the kids out for pizza," Steven said.
"I don't know." Richie blushed. "You guys look like you were doing a kinda family thing."
"And you're practically family," Melinda insisted.
"Come wif us, Wrichie!" Brandon insisted.
"Only if you say, Richie," he told him.
"Wrichie," Brandon said after taking a moment to concentrate. "No! No! Let me twy again!"
Richie smiled. "You were close enough," he told him.
"I wanna wriduh wif Wrichie!" Brandon announced as they all ventured into the parking lot.
"Why don't you ask?" Richie suggested.
"Mommy, can I please wriduh wif Wrichie? PPPPPPLLLLEEEEEEAAAAAASE?"
"Is it okay with you?" Melinda asked.
"Fine with me," Richie shrugged.
"Okay then. But wear your seat belt and don't scream, okay?"
"Okay!"
Half way to Cici's, Richie's cell phone rang.
"Hey, Brandon, do you want to answer it?"
"Yeah!"
Richie flipped the phone open and handed it back grinning at Heather. "Say 'Richie's cell phone'," he told him.
"Wrichie's cell fone!"
"Tell them who you are," Heather added.
"I'm Bwrandon!"
"Say 'with whom am I conferring?'" Richie instructed.
"Wif who am I convering?" Brandon tried his best to repeat what he had been told.
"Who is it?" Richie tried laughing.
"He's driving," Brandon told the person on the other line oblivious to what Richie had just said. "We're going for pizza! And my mommy said if I'm good I get ice cwream for dessewt!" there was a short pause. "Okay, hang on. Wrichie, it's Mac and he says call him latewr."
"Tell him I'll call him when I get home."
"He'll call when he gets home," Brandon told Duncan. "Okay. Nice talking to you, too! How do I hang up?" he asked staring down at the phone.
"I'll do it," Heather told him. "That was too cute," she told Richie.
"I'm going to have him do my outgoing message," Richie decided.
Before the evening was over Richie's greeting changed from. "Hey, it's Richie. My phone's off; leave a message and I'll call you back," to "Hi! You have wreached Wrichie's cell phone. He's not hewr to answewr it so leave a message and he'll call you back! Bye!"
"See you tomorrow?" Heather asked after their good bye kiss.
"Yeah. I'll pick you up after work," Richie promised before heading to his car and driving back to the team house. Usually after a game he stayed at Greg's house and just spent the weekend there. This weekend Richie didn't want anything to do with him.
"Hey, Mac, it's me," Richie said when Duncan answered the phone later that night.
"Hey, Rich. Was that Heather's brother earlier?"
"Yeah. What's up?"
"Just wanted to make sure you're okay," Duncan said. "We saw the game and everyone could tell how angry you were. Do you want to talk about it? Or did you resolve it already?"
"No, it's not resolved," Richie admitted. "But I'm okay now."
"What happened?"
Richie relayed his story. "Mac, I have never been so embarrassed before in my entire life!" he ranted when he was done.
"Never?" Duncan asked.
"Remember when Tessa accidentally walked in on me right after I moved in?"
"Yes." Duncan chuckled at the memory. Richie had been about to get into the shower when Tessa decided to go to the bathroom. Richie's private bathroom still needed some major cleaning so Duncan told him to use theirs. Richie hadn't been able to look Tessa in the eye for weeks after she had seen him from head to toe in the nude.
"That was nothing compared to this! I'd let Tessa take pictures before I lived through last night again!"
"That had to have been horrible," Duncan said fighting the urge to point out Richie must have been exaggerating.
"It was! He made me out to be some pathetic looser daddy's boy!"
"Richie, why don't you just stand up to him?" Duncan asked. "You have no problem telling me to mind my own business."
"I just can't. every time I try to I chicken out. It's pathetic."
"Rich, the sooner you let him know you have a spine, the sooner he'll stop trying to push you around. Just suck it up and say 'no'."
"That's easier said than done, Mac. I try and I just can't," Richie's depression was evident in his tone. "I'm a wimp."
"No, you're a. a son," Duncan had never willingly called Greg Richie's father or Richie Greg's son before.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Richie asked.
"It means, I couldn't stand up to my father either."
"That's because he could smack you around if you were bad," Richie pointed out. Duncan had long ago told him of how different times had been when he was growing up.
"Yes, but he was my father. That was what really kept me quiet. Anyone could smack me around if they caught me. but my father was the one I was scared of."
"So when did you finally stand up to him?"
"The first time I really defied one of his orders, I was thirty-five and he banished me from the clan."
"It took you thirty-five years and you expect me to after only twenty-two?" Richie asked.
"You have a lot more guts than I did back then. You have it in you. Just remember, you're not a kid and don't deserve to be treated like one."
"Thanks, Mac. I'll try," Richie promised. "But I make no guarantees."
"You'd be surprised what you can do. Just be your usual annoying self and it'll all fix itself."
Richie laughed. "Thanks a lot, Mac. I love you, too, man."
"So you feel better?" Duncan asked.
"Yeah, loads. Thanks, Mac."
"Anytime."
"Hey, I'd better go. I have a butt load of work to do and lots of rest to catch up on if I'm gonna beat the Sooners in a couple weeks."
"Richie, you have a week and a half before that game."
"But, Mac, time flies around here," Richie told him.
. . . . . .
"You did what?!" Richie demanded.
"I just wanted to see if you were making any progress so I called Miller and set up a dinner for the three of us tonight," Greg explained.
"You did what!?" Richie demanded again not allowing the explanation to sink in.
"I just want to see how you're improving."
"That's none of your business!" he insisted. "He's my teacher. That stuff is confidential!"
"He may be your teacher, but I am your father. Now go get changed for dinner. Put on something nice," he added.
"I'm not." Richie started. "I'm not." he tired again. 'Just say no!' he coached himself.
"You're not what?" Greg asked almost challenging him to disagree.
"I'm not very hungry," Richie lied.
"Then just get a salad or something. I want you there."
"But I. uh-I-I."
"Richie, stop stuttering," Greg groaned. "You're too old for that."
'And I'm too old to be told to get progress reports, too,' Richie thought. Too bad he couldn't voice his ideas. "Sorry," he mumbled turning for the stairs.
An hour later the three men, or two men and one small child as Richie felt, were seated at a table in the corner of the restaurant. Greg and Miller chatted pleasantly as Richie picked at his potato and listened. Finally he couldn't take the way they were talking about him as if he wasn't there and asked to be excused to the restroom. leaving his drink unattended. That was his first mistake.
After dinner, Richie went back to Greg's house feeling more tired by the minute. He was about to crash for the night when Greg reminded him he had a game in a few days (the very anticipated OU game) and would probably benefit from the extra sleep he would get if he slept at the team house since he had to wake up nearly an hour earlier to get to class from Greg's house. Too tired to find any holes in the logic, Richie agreed and went to the team house. That was his second mistake.
Richie barely made it home before his eyes refused to stay open any longer. He slept soundly through the night; grateful his early class had been canceled for the next day and he could sleep in. By the time the stranger showed up, Richie was the only one in the house and he was still fast asleep. When the buzz hit him, Richie didn't immediately wake up. He was used to other immortals being around while he slept. He had forgotten; he wasn't at Greg's. That was his third mistake.
With a start he realized he was at the team house and lurched out of bed. "Dad?" he called stumbling down the hall where he was met by a stranger. It took his still half asleep body a few precious seconds to react. That was his fourth mistake.
By the time Richie got back to his room to retrieve his sword from its place in his closet, the stranger was on top of him. The two wrestled for a few seconds but because the drugs were still taking their toll on Richie's system, he wasn't a match for the older and bigger immortal. The stranger hit Richie hard slamming his head into his dresser. Richie didn't fight the darkness that over took him. That was his fifth mistake.
By the time John got home for lunch, Richie and the stranger were long gone. Confused because Richie's car was still in the garage John went to see if he was sick. Richie wasn't in his room. Instead, lying on his bed was a note held down by a blood stained sword.
AN: PLEASE REVIEW!! PLEASE? I would like to know who all is reading this and what you think!
Feeling somewhat rested, he went downstairs to the kitchen. Greg wasn't there yet. He rummaged in the pantry and emerged with Cocoa Puffs and Pop Tarts. Content with his selection and feeling he was in dire need of sugar and caffeine, Richie put the food on the table before getting a bowl, coffee mug, and milk. He poured himself a cup of coffee from the fresh pot that had been brewed with the help of a timer and sat down to his meal.
"Now there's a healthy choice," a voice scoffed from behind him.
"Its fine," Richie tried to shrug off the condescending tone.
"You have a game tonight; maybe you should try bacon and eggs."
"I like cereal and Pop Tarts."
"It's just going to slow you down. You need protein to keep your energy up."
"I'll eat a steak for lunch and dinner."
"Then it will just weigh you down."
"I'm fine. I can handle it," Richie could feel his nerves being rubbed raw.
"I just wish you would eat healthier, that's all."
"Then stop buying me junk food!" Richie exploded not being able to take it any longer.
"Excuse me?" Greg asked.
"You heard me! If you don't want me to eat this stuff in front of you, stop buying it!"
"I don't appreciate your tone."
Richie rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that," he groaned. "Because I sure as hell didn't appreciate being made an ass of in front of my girlfriend and her parents!"
"Watch your language, young man."
"If you think that's bad, you should hear the other words I know," Richie said coldly staring Greg directly in the eye. "I have never been so embarrassed before in my entire life!" he continued. "A few stories, fine. But promising me one lecture after another and correcting everything I do like I'm a little kid is not cool! You made me feel like a total idiot last night! And to top it all off you had to point out that that wasn't my credit card! Nobody had to know. I'm sending Mac a check tonight and I had already asked him if I could. It was easier to take that than a hundred bucks in cash."
"You left a hundred dollars?"
"I figured she deserved a good tip after the way we were acting," Richie told him. "And it's none of your business how well I do or don't tip. The point is you went out of your way to embarrass me last night!"
"No, I didn't," Greg insisted.
"Could'a fooled me."
"Richard Ryan." Greg started.
"What?" Richie demanded.
"Don't you ever speak to me like this again, do you understand me?"
Richie contemplated his answers. "Whatever," he rolled his eyes and picked up his dishes, as only a waiter could, and carried them to the sink dumping the nearly full bowl of cereal down the drain followed by a full cup of coffee and then he dumped his Pop Tarts in the trash.
"What did you say?"
"I said," Richie started angrily spinning around to face his father who stood to his full imposing height of six foot two, arms crossed and glaring. Suddenly Richie didn't feel so brave.
"Well?"
"I said, yes, sir," Richie mumbled turning back to his dishes mentally kicking himself. He had been so close to actually getting through an entire argument without backing down. It was like it was scientifically impossible for him to stand up to his father. Not only was Greg an imposing authority figure, he was a lot bigger and stronger and Miller had told Richie repeatedly how good of a swordsman he was; for an immortal that was a very intimidating combination.
When Richie finished in the kitchen he went back to his room and got dressed. As he gathered up his books and other belongings from the floor he felt his anger rising again. Not only at Greg for treating him like a kid, but at himself for letting Greg treat him like a kid. By the time he was ready to sit down to his work, he knew there was no way he was going to be able to concentrate. He took his books off his desk and put them in his bag. Shouldering his bag, Richie went down stairs and headed to the front door.
"Where are you going?" Greg half asked, half demanded from his seat on the couch where he was reading the paper.
"Out," Richie answered not stopping.
"I thought you had homework?"
"I do."
"Then why do you think you have time to go out?"
Richie stopped half way across the room. "Because I. I." Once again Richie's courage ran for cover. "I need my computer," he lied.
"You can use mine," Greg offered.
"I uh, need. some files off it. Yeah, that's it," he lied less than convincingly. "So if I wanna get it done, I gotta go." He didn't wait for an answer before turning again and leaving. "Man! I gotta get a backbone!" he yelled at himself as he slammed his fist into his steering wheel.
. . . . . .
"What's with you, man?" John asked as Richie came storming into the house. "Mac buy you a Lamborghini?"
"No," Richie barked going straight to his room. He fell face first onto the king-sized bed and lay motionless trying to get his emotions under control. He heard someone close his door and the next thing he knew someone was shaking him awake.
"Ryan, dude, game time," Feingold told him. "You been out all day; enough's enough already."
"I'm up," Richie mumbled into the mattress. He took a couple seconds to fully wake up before getting up and going to the gym.
They ran some pre-game warm-ups then went into the locker room to dress out for the game. Richie focused all his pent up anger on playing. For four quarters, nobody could touch him; he came out of nowhere and stole the ball, sprinted down the court with it, and scored before anyone knew what happened. He still remembered to call plays and pass the ball but if you couldn't keep up with him he wasn't going to wait for you catch up. The Cougars won 127 to 55. NYU didn't stand a chance.
The entire O'Neal family was waiting for him after the game.
"You were great!" Heather squealed throwing her arms around his neck.
"Wrichie!" Brandon yelled throwing his arms around his thigh.
"Hey, big guy," Richie smiled picking the boy up. "How are you doing?"
"I'm doing very well," Brandon answered in a carefully rehearsed tone. Melinda had been teaching him manners. "How are you?"
"I'm doin' great," Richie answered before turning his attention to Courtney and three of her giggling friends. All four were decked out in Somo gear. "Hey Court, who're your friends?"
"Um. this is Jennie, Amanda, and Rachel," she introduced them.
"Nice to meet you guys," Richie said flashing them his most killer smile. The three giggled and tried to hide behind each other.
"You haven't eaten yet, have you?" Melinda asked.
"Not yet."
"Good, why don't you join us? We were going to take the kids out for pizza," Steven said.
"I don't know." Richie blushed. "You guys look like you were doing a kinda family thing."
"And you're practically family," Melinda insisted.
"Come wif us, Wrichie!" Brandon insisted.
"Only if you say, Richie," he told him.
"Wrichie," Brandon said after taking a moment to concentrate. "No! No! Let me twy again!"
Richie smiled. "You were close enough," he told him.
"I wanna wriduh wif Wrichie!" Brandon announced as they all ventured into the parking lot.
"Why don't you ask?" Richie suggested.
"Mommy, can I please wriduh wif Wrichie? PPPPPPLLLLEEEEEEAAAAAASE?"
"Is it okay with you?" Melinda asked.
"Fine with me," Richie shrugged.
"Okay then. But wear your seat belt and don't scream, okay?"
"Okay!"
Half way to Cici's, Richie's cell phone rang.
"Hey, Brandon, do you want to answer it?"
"Yeah!"
Richie flipped the phone open and handed it back grinning at Heather. "Say 'Richie's cell phone'," he told him.
"Wrichie's cell fone!"
"Tell them who you are," Heather added.
"I'm Bwrandon!"
"Say 'with whom am I conferring?'" Richie instructed.
"Wif who am I convering?" Brandon tried his best to repeat what he had been told.
"Who is it?" Richie tried laughing.
"He's driving," Brandon told the person on the other line oblivious to what Richie had just said. "We're going for pizza! And my mommy said if I'm good I get ice cwream for dessewt!" there was a short pause. "Okay, hang on. Wrichie, it's Mac and he says call him latewr."
"Tell him I'll call him when I get home."
"He'll call when he gets home," Brandon told Duncan. "Okay. Nice talking to you, too! How do I hang up?" he asked staring down at the phone.
"I'll do it," Heather told him. "That was too cute," she told Richie.
"I'm going to have him do my outgoing message," Richie decided.
Before the evening was over Richie's greeting changed from. "Hey, it's Richie. My phone's off; leave a message and I'll call you back," to "Hi! You have wreached Wrichie's cell phone. He's not hewr to answewr it so leave a message and he'll call you back! Bye!"
"See you tomorrow?" Heather asked after their good bye kiss.
"Yeah. I'll pick you up after work," Richie promised before heading to his car and driving back to the team house. Usually after a game he stayed at Greg's house and just spent the weekend there. This weekend Richie didn't want anything to do with him.
"Hey, Mac, it's me," Richie said when Duncan answered the phone later that night.
"Hey, Rich. Was that Heather's brother earlier?"
"Yeah. What's up?"
"Just wanted to make sure you're okay," Duncan said. "We saw the game and everyone could tell how angry you were. Do you want to talk about it? Or did you resolve it already?"
"No, it's not resolved," Richie admitted. "But I'm okay now."
"What happened?"
Richie relayed his story. "Mac, I have never been so embarrassed before in my entire life!" he ranted when he was done.
"Never?" Duncan asked.
"Remember when Tessa accidentally walked in on me right after I moved in?"
"Yes." Duncan chuckled at the memory. Richie had been about to get into the shower when Tessa decided to go to the bathroom. Richie's private bathroom still needed some major cleaning so Duncan told him to use theirs. Richie hadn't been able to look Tessa in the eye for weeks after she had seen him from head to toe in the nude.
"That was nothing compared to this! I'd let Tessa take pictures before I lived through last night again!"
"That had to have been horrible," Duncan said fighting the urge to point out Richie must have been exaggerating.
"It was! He made me out to be some pathetic looser daddy's boy!"
"Richie, why don't you just stand up to him?" Duncan asked. "You have no problem telling me to mind my own business."
"I just can't. every time I try to I chicken out. It's pathetic."
"Rich, the sooner you let him know you have a spine, the sooner he'll stop trying to push you around. Just suck it up and say 'no'."
"That's easier said than done, Mac. I try and I just can't," Richie's depression was evident in his tone. "I'm a wimp."
"No, you're a. a son," Duncan had never willingly called Greg Richie's father or Richie Greg's son before.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Richie asked.
"It means, I couldn't stand up to my father either."
"That's because he could smack you around if you were bad," Richie pointed out. Duncan had long ago told him of how different times had been when he was growing up.
"Yes, but he was my father. That was what really kept me quiet. Anyone could smack me around if they caught me. but my father was the one I was scared of."
"So when did you finally stand up to him?"
"The first time I really defied one of his orders, I was thirty-five and he banished me from the clan."
"It took you thirty-five years and you expect me to after only twenty-two?" Richie asked.
"You have a lot more guts than I did back then. You have it in you. Just remember, you're not a kid and don't deserve to be treated like one."
"Thanks, Mac. I'll try," Richie promised. "But I make no guarantees."
"You'd be surprised what you can do. Just be your usual annoying self and it'll all fix itself."
Richie laughed. "Thanks a lot, Mac. I love you, too, man."
"So you feel better?" Duncan asked.
"Yeah, loads. Thanks, Mac."
"Anytime."
"Hey, I'd better go. I have a butt load of work to do and lots of rest to catch up on if I'm gonna beat the Sooners in a couple weeks."
"Richie, you have a week and a half before that game."
"But, Mac, time flies around here," Richie told him.
. . . . . .
"You did what?!" Richie demanded.
"I just wanted to see if you were making any progress so I called Miller and set up a dinner for the three of us tonight," Greg explained.
"You did what!?" Richie demanded again not allowing the explanation to sink in.
"I just want to see how you're improving."
"That's none of your business!" he insisted. "He's my teacher. That stuff is confidential!"
"He may be your teacher, but I am your father. Now go get changed for dinner. Put on something nice," he added.
"I'm not." Richie started. "I'm not." he tired again. 'Just say no!' he coached himself.
"You're not what?" Greg asked almost challenging him to disagree.
"I'm not very hungry," Richie lied.
"Then just get a salad or something. I want you there."
"But I. uh-I-I."
"Richie, stop stuttering," Greg groaned. "You're too old for that."
'And I'm too old to be told to get progress reports, too,' Richie thought. Too bad he couldn't voice his ideas. "Sorry," he mumbled turning for the stairs.
An hour later the three men, or two men and one small child as Richie felt, were seated at a table in the corner of the restaurant. Greg and Miller chatted pleasantly as Richie picked at his potato and listened. Finally he couldn't take the way they were talking about him as if he wasn't there and asked to be excused to the restroom. leaving his drink unattended. That was his first mistake.
After dinner, Richie went back to Greg's house feeling more tired by the minute. He was about to crash for the night when Greg reminded him he had a game in a few days (the very anticipated OU game) and would probably benefit from the extra sleep he would get if he slept at the team house since he had to wake up nearly an hour earlier to get to class from Greg's house. Too tired to find any holes in the logic, Richie agreed and went to the team house. That was his second mistake.
Richie barely made it home before his eyes refused to stay open any longer. He slept soundly through the night; grateful his early class had been canceled for the next day and he could sleep in. By the time the stranger showed up, Richie was the only one in the house and he was still fast asleep. When the buzz hit him, Richie didn't immediately wake up. He was used to other immortals being around while he slept. He had forgotten; he wasn't at Greg's. That was his third mistake.
With a start he realized he was at the team house and lurched out of bed. "Dad?" he called stumbling down the hall where he was met by a stranger. It took his still half asleep body a few precious seconds to react. That was his fourth mistake.
By the time Richie got back to his room to retrieve his sword from its place in his closet, the stranger was on top of him. The two wrestled for a few seconds but because the drugs were still taking their toll on Richie's system, he wasn't a match for the older and bigger immortal. The stranger hit Richie hard slamming his head into his dresser. Richie didn't fight the darkness that over took him. That was his fifth mistake.
By the time John got home for lunch, Richie and the stranger were long gone. Confused because Richie's car was still in the garage John went to see if he was sick. Richie wasn't in his room. Instead, lying on his bed was a note held down by a blood stained sword.
AN: PLEASE REVIEW!! PLEASE? I would like to know who all is reading this and what you think!